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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26021617">曉星沉 // dawn star sinks</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/starjay/pseuds/starjay'>starjay</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Pentagon (Korea Band), SEVENTEEN (Band)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Alternate Universe - Historical, Childhood to Adulthood Timeline, Chronological Timeline, Fluff and Angst, Friends to Lovers, M/M, Slow Burn, pls suspend your disbelief haha, questionable world building, shooting star symbolism</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-08-21</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-08-21</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 06:20:21</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>26,092</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26021617</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/starjay/pseuds/starjay</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>“Look, Yanan, a shooting star! Quick, make a wish.”</p>
<p><em>I wish I was allowed to love you</em>, Yanan thinks.</p>
<p>“I wish for your safety, my prince,” Yanan says instead.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Wen Jun Hui | Jun/Yan An</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>18</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>65</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>曉星沉 // dawn star sinks</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>So this fic was inspired by the Junan performance on CYZJ and an art show I went to in Korea, which means I’ve been working on this fic for a whole two years and it took a pandemic for me to finally finish it lol.</p>
<p>Massive thanks to Kiki and Blue for putting up with all of my yelling, and for helping me with the editing! Love you both!</p>
<p>I’mma be real, idk what this is, I just have a lot of Feelings for these two. Um, enjoy?</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>His earliest memory of Junhui involves a river and the scent of wild flowers.</p>
<p>Yanan’s father is working. Well, he is always working, but usually he remains at the palace. Not today. Yanan wakes up when the sky is still dark, and he overhears his father murmuring with someone else. He doesn’t understand all the big words the grownups are saying, but he catches a few that pique his interest: prince, sick, picnic. Apparently, a guard who usually protects the Crown Prince is sick that day, so his father has to go take his place instead, because the prince is going on a picnic.</p>
<p>And, well, Yanan loves picnics. He is never allowed to leave the palace, and even certain areas are off-limits to him, so he decides to follow his father. There is no harm in doing so if he is very careful, and doesn’t get caught, right?</p>
<p>So Yanan pretends to be asleep when his father comes back into the room to get ready, but as soon as his father goes to the living room, he gets up to dress. He is a big boy now, five years old, and he can tie the strings of his clothes together all by himself. Quietly, he slips on his shoes, and when he hears the door close, he rushes out.</p>
<p>The sky is lit with the pale morning sunlight, so Yanan has no problem seeing the figure of his father walking along the corridor. He tiptoes along the wooden floorboards, mindful to step carefully so they do not creak, but when he looks up again, his father has already turned the corner. Afraid that he will lose him, Yanan trots quickly to catch up, only to be stopped suddenly by a pair of strong arms when he rounds the corner.</p>
<p>He looks up meekly at the imposing figure of his father, who does not look amused.</p>
<p>“Yanan, what are you doing?” his father asks him.</p>
<p>“I-I heard you were going to a picnic today and I wanted to come,” Yanan explains, pouting and scuffing his shoes against the ground. “You never take me outside the palace.”</p>
<p>His father stares at him in a way that makes him squirm under the intensity. Finally, he sighs and speaks again. “I suppose you can come with me, just this once. But you must be on your very best behaviour, because protecting the Crown Prince is a very important job. Understood?”</p>
<p>Yanan nods vigorously. “Yes sir!”</p>
<p>Yanan’s father pats his son on the head. “Alright, let’s go then.”</p>
<p>He is taken to the front gates of the palace, where a small delegation has gathered around a veiled sedan chair. His father goes ahead first to speak to one of the guards, pointing at him, and Yanan does his best to look serious and imposing like them. The guard nods begrudgingly before shouting a command at the others. Four of them pick up poles that are connected to the chair itself and they lift it up together, while Yanan’s father waves him over so they could walk next to it.</p>
<p>The palace gates swing open silently, and as the delegation begins to move, Yanan can’t help but wonder about the Crown Prince, who is undoubtedly sitting in the sedan chair. Yanan wants to ask about him, but he remembers he is supposed to be on his best behaviour, so he stays quiet instead and looks straight ahead of him as they walk.</p>
<p>Soon, the delegation veers off the dusty road and into the forest, before finally reaching a meadow that is cut cleanly in half by a small stream. The party stops right in the middle and the four guards set down the sedan chair. Yanan’s father moves to one side and beckons his son to do the same, so the prince would have room to step out. Again, his father warns him to be on his best behaviour, and though Yanan agrees obediently, he still cranes his neck to look at the prince as he is escorted out by one of the guards.</p>
<p>Yanan has never met the prince before, so he always assumed that the prince would be an adult who wears nice clothes and frowns a lot. He is certainly not expecting a little boy who looks no older than him, smiling as bright as the midday sun as he is let out to play.</p>
<p>His father leaves his side to take up a spot where he could spot bad guys if they try to attack them, but Yanan remains where he is, unsure of whether or not he is allowed to move. Still, even from a distance, Yanan does his best to observe the Crown Prince curiously as he charms flower petals to flutter off their stems like butterflies, and then laughs in delight as he tries to catch them. His nurse praises him in a high-pitched voice that makes Yanan wince, telling the young prince how talented he is.</p>
<p>After a while, his legs start to feel tired, so he sits down in the grass and plucks a flower of his own. But no matter how hard he stared at it, Yanan can’t make them fly off like the prince can. He knows that as the son of a guard, he would only have magic that helps him fight other people, but it seems like such a useless skill now that he sees what the prince is capable of.</p>
<p>Somebody touches Yanan’s shoulder suddenly, startling him from his intense staring contest with the flower. He looks up to see the prince and grins, unable to keep a straight face with how hard the other boy was smiling.</p>
<p>“Hello,” the prince greets him, holding out a hand. “What’s your name?”</p>
<p>“Yanan,” he replies easily, taking the boy’s hand and shaking it, giggling at how they were pretending to be adults. </p>
<p>“My name is Junhui,” the prince offers in turn. “Let’s be friends.”</p>
<p>“Okay!” Yanan agrees excitedly. He’s never really played with another boy close to his age before. “Best friends!”</p>
<p>Just then, Junhui’s nurse arrives at the prince’s side, trying to pull him away. “Your Highness! Don’t mind him, he’s just the son of one of the guards. What did I tell you about talking to lesser children? Come with me, why don’t you show me another butterfly?” </p>
<p>He tugs his arm out of his nurse’s grasp resolutely. “No,” Junhui argues. “I want to show Yanan.”</p>
<p>As if sensing the commotion, Yanan’s father appears next to him, apologizing to both the nurse and the prince. Yanan frowns a little, because he isn’t sure what he did wrong. Across from him, Junhui is pouting, all smiles gone, until his nurse relents with an exasperated sigh.</p>
<p>Junhui brightens immediately and drags Yanan with him in a run, until they reach the edge of the stream. He makes them both sit down before grabbing the flower still dangling from Yanan’s grasp, now limp from how hard he was holding onto it.</p>
<p>“Look,” Junhui whispers as if confiding him in a secret, eyes glittering with mischief. The flower in his hand comes to life, its petals vibrating so hard that they begin to fall off one by one. Instead of falling to the ground though, they group together in fours and begin fluttering around, mimicking butterfly wings perfectly.</p>
<p>Yanan stares in awe as one of the butterflies settles on the palm of his hand, not daring to even breathe as if he would ruin it somehow. The petals flutter off again, but not before landing right on top of his head. Junhui giggles when Yanan tries to look without moving his head, and he ends up rolling his eyes so hard he falls backwards in dizziness.</p>
<p>They play together for the rest of the afternoon, and Yanan learns that Junhui could also control water. He makes all sorts of shapes out of the droplets he calls up from the stream, although one time he attempted to lift so much water at once that when it all came crashing down, it soaked the front of both their shirts.</p>
<p>When the sun begins to set and it is time for them to return to the palace, Yanan can’t help feeling disappointed, but he tries not to show it and stands obediently next to his father as the delegation prepares to leave.</p>
<p>The trip back is no different, except Yanan has to watch his steps more often to avoid falling because it is slowly getting darker. On the way, Junhui chatters to him excitedly, to which he could only respond with small hums since every time he tries to respond in words, his father would shoot him a warning look. Still, the prince is undeterred, and his one-sided conversation continues all the way until they enter the palace gates and they have to part ways.</p>
<p>Later that night, as Yanan is getting ready for bed, his father chastises him for his behaviour earlier that day.</p>
<p>“You are lucky the prince likes you. Otherwise, you should never speak to him unless you are spoken to, understood?”</p>
<p>Yanan nods. “Yes, father.”</p>
<p>His father’s features relax into something softer. “So, what do you think? It’s not always fun being a guard, huh?”</p>
<p>“No, I think it’s really fun,” Yanan replies honestly. “When I grow up, I want to be just like you.”</p>
<p>His father chuckles. “And why is that?”</p>
<p>Yanan breaks into a grin. “So I can protect my prince.”</p>
<p>★ ☯ ☆</p>
<p>Yanan stands outside the Crown Prince’s living quarters in nervous anticipation, too wound up to spare the servant girl next to him a look. Before him is the reason he has trained tirelessly for the past three years - one year longer than the other guards-to-be - and yet here he is, too scared to even raise a hand to knock.</p>
<p>
  <em>The atmosphere in the room was nothing if not tense, as if every single person inside was holding his breath. Yanan couldn’t help the nervous energy thrumming under his skin, threatening to burst out in the form of combat magic. He clenched his hands into fists to suppress the urge as the head of security in the palace walked in.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>It was the day of assignment, something the boys have trained two years for. Sons of guards always took on their fathers’ jobs because combat magic ran in those families, and today was the day they would be assigned a post. Some of them were more relaxed than others, Yanan could tell, because their families had served a particular noble family for generations so they already knew what their post would be. Others would become palace guards, or the bodyguards of minor officials. . . or the Crown Prince’s personal guard.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>Of course, each boy would work alongside an actual guard until they were of age, but the idea was that by assigning them so young, they would develop a strong sense of loyalty towards their charge. This would be particularly important with the prince, who required someone to protect him unconditionally.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>However, what was once a coveted position had since become undesirable. Around a year ago, rumours began to circulate the palace in the form of idle gossip, and it spread like wildfire. Although Yanan couldn’t understand everything the adults talked about, at eight years old he was smart enough to pick up some meaning from their conversations. Everyone believed the young prince had suffered some sort of illness which had taken away his magic and apparently, his sanity.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>“I’d rather work in the stables,” one of his friends had once declared during a lunch break, “than to work for that crazy prince. My father told me he just sits around and drools like an idiot all day, and says I’ll become just like him if I don’t work hard in training.”</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>Yanan had promptly slammed his tray on the table and stood up, causing his spoon to clatter metallically. “The prince isn’t crazy,” he had declared. Needless to say, he wasn’t friends with that boy anymore.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>By now, the rumours were common knowledge, and since the majority of the palace hadn’t seen the prince in years, they began to take the rumours as fact. That was why, at the assignment ceremony, everyone avoided eye contact with the head of security as he surveyed the group. They all knew he was looking for a volunteer, and no one wanted to be in charge of the insane, useless prince.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>No one except for Yanan, who held his head tall and stared straight ahead with his shoulders back, just like his father taught him. </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>“Is there anyone who would like to be assigned to Crown Prince Wen Junhui?” the guard asked. “This is a position of the highest honour.”</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>There were a few snickers around the room, but no one dared to speak up.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>“Me,” Yanan said quietly, but his voice was steady.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>The head of security fixed his eyes on him. “You, kid? The third one in the seventh row?” His tone was surprised, as if he wasn’t actually expecting anyone to volunteer.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>Yanan nodded by way of reply.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>“Then come.”</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>He made his way up to the front of the room. The gaze of his classmates made his ears redden in embarrassment, but he stared determinedly ahead.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>“What is your name?” the head of security asked him. </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>“Yanan,” he responded. Standing in front of the other guard made him feel intimidated, but he tried not to show it.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>“Yanan, you will be assigned to Crown Prince Wen Junhui as his personal guard-in-training from this day onward.” The head of security slid an armband around his right bicep and told him to stand to the side.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>As his classmates were assigned to their respective positions, Yanan studied the band as excitement rushed through him. It bore a calligraphy brush hovering over an open book, the insignia of the Wen family, and the character “lian” underneath marked him as a guard-in-training. That was the reason he had trained tirelessly for three years. That was the reason he practiced his abilities and skills with his father even when the other boys were out playing. Yanan had trained to be a guard with only one goal in mind: to protect his Crown Prince.</em>
</p>
<p>The courage he had on assignment day leaves him completely as he stares at the door handles, unsure of how to proceed.</p>
<p>Thankfully, the girl takes one of the knockers and hits it against the door three times. After a moment, a voice inside calls out, “Come in,” and the two of them scramble to obey.</p>
<p>The doors open into what appears to be the living room. Three sofas are arranged in a square that is missing a side, surrounding a small table. The walls are covered in intricate patterns that were no doubt drawn by a mystic artist, and lining the walls are beautiful vases upon equally stunning shelves and drawers, holding flowers whose scents permeate the room. Although Yanan grew up in the palace, he has never been surrounded by such elegance before.</p>
<p>Junhui is sitting with his nanny on the middle sofa, staring off into space and then reaching a hand out as if he is trying to catch an imaginary bird, or perhaps a butterfly. A silent, stoic guard stands behind them, and next to the table, a maid is pouring tea.</p>
<p>“Hello,” Yanan dares to say. “My name is Yanan. I’m the prince’s guard-in-training.”</p>
<p>“Hello,” the servant girl pipes up next to him, emboldened now that he had spoken. “My name is Zhenyu, and I am the prince’s maid-in-training!”</p>
<p>The nanny barely spares them a disinterested look before gesturing at the guard and the maid. “Well? Inform them of their duties!”</p>
<p>As Yanan crosses the room to reach the guard, the nanny stands up and begins sorting through a bag that was already packed and sitting on the floor in front of the door. </p>
<p>Contrary to his initial image, the guard turns out to be quite nice as he begins explaining Junhui’s daily schedule and Yanan’s job. At first, Yanan tries his best to commit every word to memory, but soon gives up after the guard chuckles.</p>
<p>“Don’t worry, you will know this all with time. I look forward to teaching you, Yanan.”</p>
<p>Just as Yanan is about to thank the guard, Junhui’s nanny brushes past them to retrieve a comb that she had left on one of the drawers. </p>
<p>“Thank the stars, I’m finally free of that cursed child,” she mutters as she storms past them.</p>
<p>A flame of indignant anger wells up inside him like a wild beast, spreading from his core, and Yanan is both incapable and unwilling to tame it. It is one thing to hear these sort of hurtful words from the other boys as baseless gossip, but another altogether to hear it directly from the person who has been taking care of Junhui since he was born.</p>
<p>Before the guard could stop him, Yanan runs after the nanny. “His Highness is <em>not</em> cursed!” he shouts, startling everyone in the room except for Junhui, who is now holding both his hands cupped to his chest.</p>
<p>The woman whirls around and slaps him. “Excuse me? Were you raised with the horses and cows? That’ll teach you to speak to your elders so disrespectfully!”</p>
<p>With those words, she exits the room, slamming the doors on her way.</p>
<p>Yanan touches a hand to his cheek, feeling it burn up under his fingers, but he refuses to cry. The guard approaches to put a hand on his shoulder, but suddenly Junhui gets down from the sofa and walks over to him.</p>
<p>The young prince takes Yanan’s other hand in both of his. “Hello. What is your name?” he asks with all the innocence he had during their first meeting, although it is evident that he doesn’t remember the guard-in-training in front of him.</p>
<p>“Yanan,” he says, the last of the flames extinguishing under Junhui’s cool touch.</p>
<p>The prince repeats the exact same words he said three years ago: “My name is Junhui. Let’s be friends.”</p>
<p>- - -</p>
<p>After that day, Yanan is transferred to the servant’s room, which hangs off the side of the Crown Prince’s quarters. As a personal guard, Yanan is required to stay in proximity of his charge, which is why he wasn’t moved to the servants’ wing of the palace.</p>
<p>He desperately wants to talk to Junhui about their first meeting, but since the prince is mainly taken care of by the maids, and he still has lessons during the day, their schedules conflict and it isn’t often that the two of them are left alone.</p>
<p>Every morning, Yanan wakes up at the sixth hour to the rooster’s crow, and makes his way to the servants’ hall for breakfast. When the prince rises an hour later, he is already training in physical combat, then in arcane combat, which is followed by basic theory in magic. </p>
<p>He sits in his lectures attentively as the old teacher explains that all living creatures have energy, <em>qi</em>, which swirls around them in invisible threads that hold the world together. Mystics can tap into this power and convert it to spiritual energy using their meridians, vessels for <em>qi</em> instead of blood in their bodies. The energy can therefore be manipulated in this way, though the fashion and degree with which it can be manipulated depends on the mystics themselves.</p>
<p>Yanan already knows this, knows that most mystics outside nobility specialize in one type of energy manipulation or another: merchants with their specific trades, royal guards with combat magic. Mystical aptitude is hereditary, the teacher explains, which is why most mystics choose to marry other mystics, and why the nobility often marry within their own circles to strengthen bloodlines. Again, this is common knowledge.</p>
<p>What interests Yanan instead is how <em>qi</em> can be used. The teacher explains that this energy can be exerted in three primary ways: talismans, arrays, and spells. Talismans tend to be small trinkets or nondescript objects, similar to good luck charms, or pieces of paper, which can be written on and pre-imbued with energy for various uses. Arrays are circles of symbols, drawn into a surface using a spiritual tool, that can be used to suppress or summon spirits, or to ward out evil. This is the most difficult use of magic. </p>
<p>Spells are the most common, where mystics can pull threads of existing energy from the environment, weaving them into characters of <em>qi</em> to serve their corresponding purpose. Yanan had just learned his first character earlier, in arcane combat: <em>dun</em>, shield.</p>
<p>Noon arrives and passes. After lunch, Yanan sits in with Junhui during his afternoon lessons, although this mainly consists of him and the prince’s other guard standing silently at the back of the room with perfect posture. Being more on the quiet side and preferring to observe than to speak, Yanan would be alright with this arrangement if it weren’t for the tutors.</p>
<p>During the lessons, Yanan can always sense the disappointment and impatience radiating from the teachers whenever Junhui couldn’t answer a question, or didn’t pay attention at all. In fact, he has a feeling that had the tutors not been teaching the Crown Prince himself, they would have punished the boy already. After all, his own combat instructors had always struck them whenever they couldn’t perfect a move or were clumsy with their magic.</p>
<p>Yanan knows that there is something wrong with Junhui, that perhaps he is ill, because his behaviour is completely different from when they first met. But he isn’t crazy. Yanan knows, because sometimes Junhui would look at him with clear, dark eyes, calling him by name and telling him stories like he was an old friend. So Junhui isn’t crazy like the rumours claim, and Yanan says as much whenever the other boys make fun of the prince at mealtimes.</p>
<p>The late afternoons are the only times when Yanan and Junhui are alone, or at least, given the semblance of being alone. When Junhui’s lessons finish and the setting sun is showering the world in golden light, Junhui would pull him along to the royal garden, where every species of flowers imaginable bloomed with magic. The place is huge, and the plants are tall enough to hide them from the rest of the palace. </p>
<p>In the garden, there is a small river that travels from north to south, the clear water cutting it in half. The two of them would run across the bamboo bridge to the pavilion on the other side of the garden. They would pretend to be grownups talking about important state matters when Junhui is clear-headed, or chase imaginary animals around when Junhui is not.</p>
<p>When the sun set, Junhui would be summoned for dinner, and Yanan would part ways with him to eat in the servants’ hall once again. He wouldn’t see Junhui again until after he showers and is getting ready to sleep, when Junhui would bid him goodnight. </p>
<p>Although their schedules may change, Yanan and Junhui make it a part of their own little routine to always meet each other in the garden in the afternoon, and to wish each other goodnight in the evening.</p>
<p>This little routine continues for twelve years before their peaceful world goes up in flames.</p>
<p>★ ☯ ☆</p>
<p>“... and this conflict between the people and the landlords led to the Great Downpour, the most devastating magic-caused natural disasters in our history. Now, can you write down for me the significance of this event?”</p>
<p>Yanan forces himself to stay quiet and act unconcerned, distracting himself by observing the back of Junhui’s head. His hair, as always, carries elaborate braids that gather in a high knot at the top of his head, where an intricate silver headpiece is nestled to indicate his status as Crown Prince. The rest of his hair spills like bronze thread to his waist. Yanan almost feels inadequate in comparison, his own hair done up in a simple topknot for practicality.</p>
<p>His attention is drawn back to the conversation as Junhui looks between his history teacher and the blank parchment curiously. “Snakes all drowned and the nest fell apart. Many, many pieces. Like ricecake.”</p>
<p>Miss Shi smiles at Junhui thinly before sitting back. She is a beautiful and smart lady who is the daughter of the palace librarian, and she is the tutor who treats Junhui the best, even if it wasn’t genuine. From his observations, Yanan concludes that she can probably become one of the king’s concubines if she tried hard enough, as her acting skills could certainly charm her way into the higher statuses of the palace.</p>
<p>For now, she simply stands up and, in a voice sweetened with toxic honey, calls for a five minute break before stalking off. </p>
<p>“Stupid child. If he wasn’t the Crown Prince…. ah, he’s hopeless,” she mutters as she leaves, and Yanan is half-tempted to correct her. After six years of being assigned to Junhui, though, he has learned when and how to defend the prince. Right now, he can only hope that Junhui isn’t lucid enough to understand her.</p>
<p>As soon as she is gone, Yanan takes her spot next to Junhui, thankful that he is the only one standing guard today, and glances at the history book open on the table. Lines of text are accompanied by sporadic illustrations of water flooding over farmlands, angry storm clouds, fleeing villagers, and a massive blue dragon.</p>
<p>Yanan knows all about the Great Downpour. It is easily the most important event in the history of Qiuhua, and every child is taught about it from a young age. At the end of the Arcane Period - when mystics realized they could use their power to hold dominion over the <em>pingmin</em>, or commoners - peasants revolted against their masters. It was a particularly tough year with little rain, and although the landowners could very well use their magic to help the crops grow, they preferred watching their slaves toil in the fields.</p>
<p>When the farmers finally had enough of the tyranny, they stopped working altogether and demanded the landlords to summon rain for the crops. Angered, the mystics gathered their power to create a storm cloud so vast, it is said to have covered the entirety of the kingdom in darkness for seven days and seven nights. From the concentration of magic, an elemental in the form of a water dragon was born, and it only added to the chaos. For the following five years, rain fell ceaselessly and flooded the land. The centre of power continuously shifted as different political factions tried to tame the beast, who was named Yinhe, for its serpentine form filled up the stormy sky like the Milky Way did on a clear night.</p>
<p>Finally, a skilled nobleman crafted a pearl and used it to bind the dragon’s magic, and he was able to coax the dragon into its spirit state, which was easier to control. He then proceeded to unite the kingdom into what is today known as Qiuhua, and founded the beginning of the Wen dynasty.</p>
<p>A hand tugging at his sleeve shakes Yanan from his daydream as he imagines the long, terrible storm that befell his kingdom so long ago. Junhui still has the curious look on his face, but his eyes are no longer glazed over.</p>
<p>“She’s mad at me, Yanan,” Junhui whispers to him, confirming his thoughts. The prince only ever calls him by his name when he has what Yanan has begun calling his ‘lucid moments’.</p>
<p>“It’s not your fault, my prince.” Yanan is quick to reassure him. “How long?”</p>
<p>Junhui shakes his head, in part because of frustration. “I don’t know. As soon as she left, and you took her place, I think. It made me feel better. I don’t know how long it will last. Can you explain this to me before I go crazy again?” He gestures at the textbook.</p>
<p>“You’re not crazy,” Yanan is quick to admonish, but he settles into a more comfortable position anyways before he begins telling the story of the Great Downpour.</p>
<p>When he is finished, Junhui nods seriously. “So the lesson is that we should just give in to the demands of everyday citizens once in a while, and to do so in a non-petty way?”</p>
<p>Yanan shakes his head, but he can’t help laughing. “The <em>significance</em>,” he corrects, “is that without the Great Downpour, we would have never learned it is possible to create magical beasts unintentionally with large amounts of magic, and that Qiuhua might have never been established. Your ancestor not only united the kingdom, my prince, he also put in place new laws that organized the whole system a lot better.”</p>
<p>Junhui hums in understanding as he dips his brush into the inkwell and starts writing down his words. “I think he could have done a better job, though. It’s not like things are fantastic for <em>pinming</em> today.”</p>
<p>Yanan’s eyes dart around nervously before leaning closer to Junhui. “Are you criticizing the king?” he asks in a low tone.</p>
<p>The prince shrugs before mimicking sewing his mouth shut. “No words, or the tiger will come get me.” And just like that, Yanan knows that Junhui is gone again.</p>
<p>Yanan sits by Junhui’s side for a moment longer before getting up, and just as well, because it is at that moment that Miss Shi returns, appearing noticeably more composed. When she looks at the parchment full of words, with Junhui now doodling a cat in the corner, her eyes widen in surprise.</p>
<p>Turning to Yanan, she demands incredulously, “Did he just write all that? Did you just teach him the lesson?”</p>
<p>Yanan stares at the ground in respect and replies modestly with a proverb: “Patience is power; with time and patience, the mulberry leaf becomes a silk gown. Perhaps that is also the key with His Highness.”</p>
<p>While Miss Shi is standing there gaping, unable to comprehend how a lowly guard is able to accomplish what she failed to do, Junhui catches his attention from behind her and smiles. Although his eyes are once more glazed over, there is mirth twinkling from their depths. When the history tutor turns to face the prince again, Yanan smiles back.</p>
<p>★ ☯ ☆</p>
<p>They are in the throne room when news of the rebellion reaches the palace.</p>
<p>As with every court proceeding, Junhui is required to attend this one, and as the Crown Prince’s officially assigned personal guard, Yanan is present as well. Deep down, he knows that Junhui is only ever invited to court hearings for show, so the king can ask for his opinion and then address the court smugly when Junhui fails to give a coherent reply. It is all an elaborate, twisted performance, so the king can tell his people, <em>do you see my idiot son? This is why you need me.</em></p>
<p>There is a lull in the case as the king confers with his advisor. Yanan, paying full attention at every moment, knows that the case is about a murder and the family of the victim is asking for compensation. The defendant and the accuser are both currently standing before the throne with their heads bowed in respect, knowing their place as <em>pingmin</em> in a room full of mystics. </p>
<p>On either side of the throne room sits two government officials in descending order of importance. Yanan harbors a deep dislike for all of them, as they always act like they are the Jade Emperor reincarnate, and never hesitate to impose their superiority on others. Currently, they are speaking in low tones to each other, mocking the peasants on trial.</p>
<p>“What a waste of time,” Mingsi-<em>guan</em>, the grand chancellor, remarks in a bored tone quietly, though his voice carries to all mystics in the room in an obnoxious show of projection magic. “I do wonder why we still tolerate <em>pingmin</em> when all they do is demand for more from the government, and then complain when we raise the taxes. Tch, how ungrateful.”</p>
<p>Another minister nods in agreement. “If we were still in the Arcane Period, they would be toiling in the fields like animals, where they rightfully belong. We allow them too much freedom, that they are even bold enough to show their face before the king himself, asking for money like the greedy bastards they are.”</p>
<p>Yanan clenches his fists but remains stoic and silent, as he had been trained to do. Although he is mystic himself, he had been sent on many errands outside the palace walls, and had witnessed first-hand the poverty in which <em>pingmin</em> lived. It sickens him to listen to the privileged upper class speak carelessly about them, showing only their ignorance in their attempt to sound superior.</p>
<p>Haozheng-<em>fushou</em>, the general’s deputy, licks his lips nervously, eyes darting towards the king, who is still deep in conversation with Advisor Luo. “But we are certainly more fortunate to be living in the Wen Dynasty, no?” He, at least, has the decency to not project his voice, and the intelligence to praise the king at every given opportunity.</p>
<p>“Of course,” Fanhua-<em>jiangjun</em>, the general, answers drily. “All hail His Illustrious Majesty, for leading us into a brighter future.”</p>
<p>Yanan tunes the conversation out as the other ministers murmur their assent. Their banter quiets down as the king turns towards the <em>pingmin</em> on trial again, interrogating them further, but picks up as soon as the king stops speaking.</p>
<p>This time, they direct their insulting whispers towards Junhui, as they inevitably did during public occasions.</p>
<p>“It is so unfortunate that the Crown Prince isn’t right in the head. He showed so much potential as a child. Who knew the loss of his mother would affect him so much?” Fanhua-<em>jiangjun</em> says in mock pity. Yanan knows he is secretly glad of the fact, just like every other member of the noble class, for Junhui’s status as an invalid increases his own chances of ascending to the throne.</p>
<p>“A real shame,” Mingsi-<em>guan</em> agrees with soft laughter. It takes all of Yanan’s willpower to not punch the chancellor in his ugly face. “A waste of a pretty face, really…”</p>
<p>Yanan closes his eyes and takes a deep breath, forcing himself to stop listening to whatever disgusting words the grand chancellor spews out of his vile mouth. For once, he hopes that Junhui is daydreaming, so he wouldn’t have to hear what is being said of him.</p>
<p>Haozheng-<em>fushou</em>’s lips twist into an ugly smile, and Yanan summons all of his willpower to suppress a shudder at his oily tone. “King Wen, and Qiuhua, are lucky to have us. The people would fall into turmoil under the leadership of that crazy boy-prince. Why, I would even say—”</p>
<p>Yanan would never get to hear what else he had to say, since at that very moment, frantic knocking sounds from the large, bronze double doors, which swing open with a gust of wind.</p>
<p>“Who dares disrupt this court hearing?” the king demands in anger, standing up from his throne. </p>
<p>The new arrival does not answer until he gets close enough for Yanan to recognize him as the royal messenger. His clothing is dirty and his feet bare, and he is panting as if he ran all the way from the Western Mountains without a break.</p>
<p>“My liege, I apologize for the interruption,” he gasps, gulping down air, “but I bring disturbing news from the south that I must share immediately.”</p>
<p>The king’s dark eyes narrow as the ministers sneer at the newcomer. Amidst the outrage, Junhui remains calm as ever, and Yanan cannot tell whether the Crown Prince is even aware of what is happening around him.</p>
<p>“Then speak,” the king commands. </p>
<p>The messenger’s eyes scan the room, and his speech falters. “...Right now, my liege? Here?”</p>
<p>“What have you learned that cannot be shared among my most trusted servants?”</p>
<p>Yanan smiles to himself when the ministers look unhappy at being referred to as servants.</p>
<p>“My liege,” he begins haltingly. “My liege, there is a rebellious force brewing in the south.”</p>
<p>The king waves his hand dismissively. “We have nothing to fear. Let them try to lay siege to this kingdom, if they wish to hasten their own destruction.”</p>
<p>The messenger looks up at the king, making eye contact despite his obvious fear. His voice lowers into nothing more than a whisper. “My liege, it is rumoured that their leader has command over Yinhe, the Great Dragon.”</p>
<p>The room falls silent, as if collectively holding a breath. The very mention of the elemental’s name lowers the temperature tenfold, sending chills down everyone’s spines. Yinhe has not been awakened since the end of the Great Downpour, and no one has ever managed to tame the beast fully before.</p>
<p>“I see,” the king finally says after a lengthy pause. “Court adjourned. Ministers, you may decide the best course of action for this case. The two of you, come, for it appears we have much to discuss.”</p>
<p>The tension dissipates slightly as the king exits the room, followed by the messenger and the advisor. Yanan is finally able to approach Junhui, so he tugs gently at the prince’s sleeve. </p>
<p>“Let us go, Your Highness.”</p>
<p>- - -</p>
<p>Unsurprisingly, the two of them find themselves in the royal garden, which provides the same sense of privacy and safety as it did when they were children. Night had fallen, but Junhui hadn’t wanted to be confined to his room so early, so Yanan had conceded.</p>
<p>As they walk, Yanan trails behind in respect, taking in the tranquil atmosphere. At night, the garden holds a different sort of beauty, coming alive with sights and sounds that were hidden away during the day. Trees and flowers cast unfamiliar shadows in the flickering light of the lanterns, but neither of them are afraid of the dark so long as they have each other. </p>
<p>Enchanted fireflies dart around Yanan and Junhui playfully, leaving trails of sparks behind them long after they fly away like the coveted fairies of the north. The two of them are silent when they cross the bamboo bridge, content to soak in the sounds of the night instead: bullfrogs croaking from their perch on lily pads, crickets chirping amongst the tall grass, and the river rushing softly by. The rippling water reflects the full moon hanging above them, watchful as always.</p>
<p>Suddenly, Junhui makes an excited noise and begins running around, chasing the fireflies. Yanan looks on in amusement, and despite having watched over the Crown Prince for a decade, he feels as if he is seeing the other boy for the first time. All the twinkling lights in the garden seem to dance around Junhui’s delicate features, illuminating his childlike delight as he watches the insects weave intricate patterns through the air.</p>
<p>Yanan’s heart clenches in inexplicable pain, so he decides to file the feeling neatly away, choosing instead to catch up to Junhui. Without the weighted gaze of the rest of the palace, the two of them could be close friends, but above all, Yanan is a loyal guard, and he knows his place.</p>
<p>“My prince,” he starts, breaking the silence as he attempts to make conversation. “About what the messenger said earlier...what do you think should be the best course of action to take, regarding the rebels?”</p>
<p>Junhui stares at him and blinks deliberately, as if he could not believe Yanan was asking him such a simple question. “Cannot reason with the frog,” he replies matter-of-factly. “It will only anger the dragon king in the deep sea.”</p>
<p>“Are you speaking of the rebels, my prince? I apologize, I fail to understand,” Yanan says. Although he had spent many years deciphering Junhui’s words, they still continued to baffle him at times.</p>
<p>“No.” Junhui shakes his head, like Yanan was being purposefully difficult. “The frog in the well. He thinks the dragon king can easily devour all the ants, but the ants will devour him instead.”</p>
<p>At once, Yanan understands. “My prince, the people have no power, magical or otherwise. How can they overwhelm your father, even if there are more numerous? Think of your father’s army alone, the generals and the soldiers. The rebellion stands no chance.”</p>
<p>Junhui sighs, defeated. “Fireflies light the way, and they are difficult to catch.” </p>
<p>As if to demonstrate his point, he reaches out to one of the insects curiously hovering around them. It darts away, leaving a trail of sparks in its wake, and Junhui opens his hand to reveal his empty palm. “Fireflies spread, and when they gather, they will burn. Burn through everything, including the dragon king in the deep sea.”</p>
<p>Yanan marvels at Junhui’s empathy as he closes the distance between them, so that they stand face to face. “Do you really believe their hope is that strong?” he asks.</p>
<p>But Junhui has already lost interest in the conversation. Instead, his bright eyes are looking up, fixed on something in the distance.</p>
<p>“Yanan, look,” he says, and Yanan’s breath catches even as a spark of joy wells up inside him. The prince speaking his name indicated that he is lucid now, yet the fondness with which he spoke is making his heart hurt again.</p>
<p>Nevertheless, Yanan follows Junhui’s gaze to the sky, where a shooting star is travelling across the dark canvas, painting a streak of white among a million pinpoints of light. The ephemeral flash it creates lights up Junhui’s face for a split second, making him glow ethereally. Yanan wants to sear that image into his mind forever.</p>
<p>“Look, Yanan, a shooting star! Quick, make a wish.”</p>
<p><em>I wish I was allowed to love you</em>, Yanan thinks.</p>
<p>“I wish for your safety, my prince,” Yanan says instead.</p>
<p>★ ☯ ☆</p>
<p>A hand comes to rest upon his knee, stopping its movement. Yanan didn’t even realize his knee was bouncing up and down in the first place.</p>
<p>“You are restless. You wish to leave the palace,” says Junhui. It isn’t a question.</p>
<p>Yanan glances up to look into the eyes of the Crown Prince. Although his lucid moments have become more frequent in the past year, ever since the king had more or less left them alone to focus on the rebellion, he is still pleasantly surprised each time Junhui speaks to him directly.</p>
<p>“Perhaps I do miss hunting,” he replies softly with a shrug, toying with his sleeves. “But your wellbeing is more important than any of my wishes. It is not safe for you beyond these walls, not with the rebellion looking for any leverage against His Majesty your father. Besides, I don’t mind being here.” <em>If I’m with you</em> hangs unsaid in the air, but Junhui has always had an uncanny ability to read his mind without magic.</p>
<p>A small smile tugs at Junhui’s lips even as Yanan gestures from their spot in the pavillon, at the heart of the royal garden. The late afternoon sunlight filters through the various plants, casting golden rays on everything it touched.</p>
<p>“Well, perhaps you feel that way, but <em>I</em> for one don’t feel like being trapped inside the palace walls all day. Let’s go hunting.” Without warning, Junhui stands abruptly, walking briskly towards the bamboo bridge in the direction of the palace buildings.</p>
<p>Yanan hurries after him. “My prince, where are you going?”</p>
<p>“To request a hunting party for tomorrow. We can leave at dawn,” he calls back without looking.</p>
<p>“That is not a wise decision,” Yanan protests, raising his voice slightly to be heard over the river. “It is dangerous for you, there are rebels out there who would—”</p>
<p>Junhui spins around so suddenly that Yanan runs into him. “That’s what I have you for, isn’t it?” he asks playfully, before tapping Yanan’s nose and running off in a fit of laughter.</p>
<p>Yanan stands in place for a moment, slightly miffed at the action. A blush rises to his cheeks, but he wills his heartbeat to calm. <em>You cannot think like that, he does not share your affections</em>, he scolds himself. <em>In any case, you have a duty to fulfill, above all else</em>.</p>
<p>With that reminder, he follows Junhui into the palace.</p>
<p>The prince must have been very convincing, or magically persuasive, or perhaps the king simply no longer cared for him even as an asset, for true to his words, the two of them set out with a hunting party in the early morning of the following day.</p>
<p>As they travel along the beaten dirt path, the soft light of dawn filters through the trees on either side of the road, and Yanan is reminded of the first time he met Junhui. The entourage then was also heading out at sunrise, though Yanan was walking next to the carriage rather than riding beside the Crown Prince on horseback. He surveys their surroundings for danger as they swerve off the main road towards their typical hunting grounds, before his eyes inevitably settle back on Junhui.</p>
<p>The Crown Prince’s eyes were clear but unfocused, staring at the barely visible horizon like he could see visions beyond. It is just as well. Yanan may want to speak with him, but they are surrounded by five other guards in their hunting party, and the flurry of gallops serves as a constant reminder that they are not alone.</p>
<p>As they enter the forest, Yanan slows his horse, searching for the best place to dismount. They reach a familiar clearing, but though the trees haven’t changed, Yanan feels instantly that something is off. Perhaps their year of confinement has made the territory foreign. Still, he is wary as he signals for the party to dismount.</p>
<p>The moment his feet hit the ground, the sound muffled by the leaves covering the forest floor, he realizes the difference. The forest is completely silent. Junhui’s feet join him on the blanket of leaves, their eyes meeting in a rare moment of complete understanding.</p>
<p>A hissing noise flies past his face, the guard on the right of him letting out a grunt before falling off his horse. The animal, sensing danger, rears up on its hind legs before crashing down, running into the woods with the man’s foot still caught in the stirrup. </p>
<p>Immediately, Yanan pushes Junhui behind him as another guard falls, calling his magic to him. After hours of training, the energy comes to him easily, and he pulls the essence of magic from the air to form the character for <em>shield</em> in front of them. The character blazes green before dissipating, leaving a solid wall of energy between himself and the faceless assailants. From the way the arrows, regular arrows, are raining down around them, there are multiple enemies hiding in the trees, and Yanan does not know whether his ability is enough to hold them off.</p>
<p>Another arrow lodges itself squarely in the forehead of a guard, and the man is dead before he even hits the ground. Three more arrows fly past, not aimed at the remaining guards, but at their horses. The animals, though not terribly injured, respond to the attacks in panic, fighting against their bits to run away. The attackers may not be mystics, but they are fantastic shots.</p>
<p>“Yanan, Yanan, they need help.” An urgent tugging at his shirt reminds him that there is no time for him to be insecure. Junhui is kneeling by one of the wounded guards on the ground, barely fazed by the volley of assault as he studies the fallen man, and Yanan adjusts his stance to cover the prince. A glint on the fletching sticking out of the man’s shoulder catches his eye. Blue and gold. The colours of the rebellion. Yanan is foolish to have let Junhui organize the hunting party when the rebellion is still at large.</p>
<p>“Dismount,” he barks at the guards who were struggling to keep their animals in check. Yanan knows they would be safer on the ground. After a bit of hesitation, the men follow his orders. Free from their grips, the horses gallop into the forest in a frenzy with arrows stuck through their sides.</p>
<p>Junhui, for his part, is ignoring the danger, brows furrowed in concentration as strands of gold weave themselves around the wound, stabilizing the guard. His bow quiver lies on the ground beside him, forgotten. Yanan’s own quiver is still slung securely on his back, but he cannot return fire against unseen assailants.</p>
<p>“Your Highness, it is not safe here. We need to go,” he urges, trying to persuade Junhui to move as the other three guards draw in closer, standing in formation with Yanan to cover Junhui as much as possible.. “This is an attack of the rebellion, and you are the target.”</p>
<p>“I can’t leave them here,” Junhui argues with surprising ferocity. “What kind of prince would that make me?”</p>
<p><em>One that is expected by the general public</em>, Yanan is tempted to reply, but before he can, five men cloaked in green drop out of the trees and approach them in tight formation, swords drawn. Yanan can see the symbol of the rebels—a five-pointed golden star on a deep blue background—on their armbands. The arrows have stopped flying. They must have run out of ammunition.</p>
<p>In response, Yanan draws his own sword.</p>
<p>“Give us the prince, and we will leave peacefully,” the man at the centre commands, and he must be the leader of the group, though their faces are all hidden by blue scarves.</p>
<p>The other guards match their formation with their own weapons drawn, ready to strike at a moment’s notice. Yanan knows better than to converse with them; letting the guards capture them for interrogation, or even executing them on the spot for treason, is the correct course of action here. Still, he cannot prevent a scoff from escaping his lips. They could not have believed their task would be so easy. “Hear you not what you are asking? Leave now, or I will arrest you for treason against the throne.”</p>
<p>“We do not want trouble. We are asking peacefully,” the man reiterates. “We will not ask again.”</p>
<p>“You are in no place to be making such a request.”</p>
<p>Yanan raises his left hand, the one without a sword, and holds his palm towards the rebels while the character for <em>strike</em> flashes briefly in the air. The energy, now red, focuses itself into a single swirling point, and he sends it flying towards the man in the center. The enchanted missile catches the man in the chest with great force, knocking him back into his comrades until his back hits the trunk of a tree, and he slides to the ground unconscious.</p>
<p>The other men first appear to be shaken, and then enraged. They charge.</p>
<p>They are met head on by the royal guards, whose swords glow with red. The rebels are clearly more comfortable with projectile assault for they are clumsy with their swords, falling easily under the blades of the guards. Yanan watches the fight with caution, still posturing his body to defend Junhui. Suddenly, one of the rebels draws something from his sleeve and throws it at the ground in front of the charging guards.</p>
<p>A blast of smoke sends the guards flying backwards, causing Yanan to stagger even with the energy shield absorbing most of the blow. He does not have to look behind him to know that the guards were all unconscious, if not dead.</p>
<p><em>A mystic talisman</em>, he thinks to himself. But how? Rebels don’t have access to magic. It is one of the aspects of which they are so proud: to represent the common people, to take back power from the tyrannical mystic ruling class.</p>
<p>Next to him, Junhui is still working, unaffected by the chaos that raged around him.</p>
<p>The thick smoke from the talisman blocks Yanan’s vision, but he can hear footsteps approaching from all directions now. There must have been more than five rebels lying in wait. Yanan curses himself for leading the hunting party right into the ambush. He raises his sword again, its red glow clearing away some of the mist, calming his breathing. </p>
<p>One heartbeat. Two. The rebels have yet to close the distance between them, but there must have been more than a dozen. Even as a mystic, Yanan is feeling outnumbered heavily.</p>
<p>“He should live,” Junhui tells him quietly, standing up. “But we have to hurry back to the palace.”</p>
<p>Yanan, ridiculously, wants to laugh. They are in the middle of a calculated strike. Their steeds, though uninjured, had fled when the smoke explosion occurred. It would take a miracle for them to leave the forest alive, much less make it back to the palace.</p>
<p>He hears a <em>shing!</em> to his left and he is spinning around before he fully understands the situation, parrying a sword that was heading towards Junhui. Yanan kicks the rebel in the chest, making him stumble backwards, as he raises his sword again, cutting down two men who were rushing at them from the opposite direction. Junhui, for his part, is standing still with a bewildered look on his face. His eyes clouds over.</p>
<p><em>Not now</em>, Yanan wants to groan, but there is nothing to be done. His blade sings as he slices through the air, sending a wave of energy at three oncoming rebels, who all fall to the ground with the wind knocked out of them. The arcs of crimson through the air clear the smoke greatly, allowing him to spin around to kick a rebel straight in the jaw as he stabs another through the heart. The rebels really are terrible swordsmen, but still, they keep coming.</p>
<p>The bodies, dead or unconscious, pile around his feet, giving him room to breathe. Yanan staggers, wiping blood from a stray cut on his cheek. He checks the energy shield around Junhui; it flickers, the green light fading slowly.</p>
<p>Almost as if the rebels have come to the same realization as him at the same time, one of the men who is lying on the ground feigning death rises all of a sudden, his sword aimed straight for Junhui’s unprotected chest.</p>
<p>Yanan slams into the man with a palm out, sending a bolt of energy into him, but his actions are slightly sluggish from exhaustion. The rebel’s blow goes wide, but the tip of the blade still manages to catch Junhui’s bicep, carving a thin strip into the fabric.</p>
<p>Junhui barely spares the cut a glance, muttering a small, disinterested, “Ow.”</p>
<p>Yanan’s vision fills with blood.</p>
<p>With a renewed burst of adrenaline, he charges at the remaining rebels in a whirlwind of fury and destruction, cutting down the rebels without hesitation. Long gone is the notion that he should bring at least one of them back to the palace alive for interrogation. Junhui’s blood is spilled, and they must pay tenfold.</p>
<p>The rest of the fight passes in a blur. When his mind finally clears, Yanan is standing in a forest clearing awash with blood, the bodies of the rebels strewn about haphazardly. He pants, almost doubling over when a sharp pain flares up in his side. He assesses his wounds, realizing that a great deal of the blood staining into his clothes are his own.</p>
<p>A hand touches his shoulder, making him wince in pain once more. Junhui, somehow, stands behind him looking like there was no problem in the world, his hunting gear having remained pristine throughout the entire battle.</p>
<p>“Tortoises in a basin, all caught. All caught, but they bite,” he says with a plantitive lilt to his voice, almost mournful.</p>
<p>Yanan’s mind, addled with bloodlost, is unable to decode what the Crown Prince is trying to tell him. Since the danger has passed, the burst of adrenaline has left his system. He sways on his feet twice before falling.</p>
<p>Surprisingly strong arms catch him before he can hit the ground. Through his blurry vision, he is able to make out Junhui’s adorably concerned face, even if his eyes are still far away. Yanan can die with no regrets, he thinks. </p>
<p>Then, as if someone had blown out the candles on the night of a new moon, the world falls into darkness.</p>
<p>-</p>
<p>Yanan wakes to dark eyes staring at his face intensely.</p>
<p>The blazing afternoon sunlight is reduced to a soft orange by the translucent curtains in his room. He blinks, taking in his situation through a splitting headache. His throat feels as dry as sand, and  his mouth still tasted of something faintly metallic. Details of the failed hunt and the rebels’ ambush return to him slowly, the pain in his body growing stronger as he escapes the confines of sleep.</p>
<p>The hail of arrows that assaulted them. The mystic talisman and the smoke explosion. Waves after waves of rebels charging at them relentlessly, their numbers making up for their lack of magic. One of them had injured—Junhui, oh heavens, <em>Junhui</em>— </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Yanan sits up, the pain shooting up his side making him regret his actions immediately. Warm hands steady him, and he takes a few shuddering breaths. He only looks up again when the burn subsides slightly. Realizing that Yanan has stabilized, Junhui withdraws his hands with a clear of his throat, the tips of his ears turning pink.</p>
<p>“Water,” he manages to croak out.</p>
<p>“Oh, of course,” Junhui responds quickly, handing him a ceramic cup.</p>
<p>Yanan accepts it gratefully, and only speaks when the cup is empty. “How long…?”</p>
<p>“You’ve been unconscious for four days,” Junhui tells him, taking the cup from his grasp.</p>
<p>“Four?!” he splutters. </p>
<p>Junhui fixes him with a hard glare. “With the state you were in when I got us back to the palace, you should count yourself lucky that you were only out for four days. Have you seen your injuries?”</p>
<p>At the word “injuries,” Yanan’s eyes fall to the neat white bandage that is wrapped around Junhui’s upper left arm. A rush of emotions overtake him, and his throat closes up. The hunting party was his idea. And Junhui had gotten hurt because of it.</p>
<p>“I’m sorry,” he chokes out, clasping his hands together and staring down as he suddenly cannot bring himself to meet Junhui’s eyes. <em>I’m sorry I failed.</em> “I’m sorry you got hurt.” <em>I’m sorry I wasn’t good enough.</em> “If it wasn’t for me,  you wouldn’t have gotten hurt.”</p>
<p>A soft hand tips his chin up gently, forcing him to look at the Crown Prince. “Yes” Junhui agrees quietly, his smiling face marred with sadness. “If it weren’t for you, I would be dead.”</p>
<p>★ ☯ ☆</p>
<p>After the assassination attempt, palace life returns to normal. Even after the life of his son was threatened, the king apparently thinks the rebels still do not pose a risk to his throne, and for good reason. Chenxing—Morningstar—as they have taken to calling themselves, is composed entirely of <em>pingmin</em>. Launching a coup will no doubt result in their extermination, if only because they are no match for the royal mystic army. Even the claims that they have awoken Yinhe have faded to nothing but whispers in the wind. After all, it took a powerful mystic to tame the beast the first time, so how can a group without magic hope to accomplish such a feat?</p>
<p>Still, Yanan is on edge. He begins to listen in to the military briefings when he can; he learns about Chenxing through gossiping servants; he makes plans to escape with Junhui should the rebellion ever threaten their safety. With his limited authority, he manages to convince the head of the palace guard to increase their defences, with which the other man only complies halfheartedly. </p>
<p>The people may be without magic, but Yanan has learned to never underestimate their power.</p>
<p>He just does not expect a frontal assault on the palace. Not so soon, anyway.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Yanan wakes to the sound of urgent whispers in the middle of the night. As the prince’s personal guard, he is trained to be a light sleeper, and any disturbance is enough to rouse him. The whispers themselves are definitely an abnormality; his sleeping quarters are in the same building as the prince’s residence, and most servants ignored this part of the palace complex if necessary.</p>
<p>The night is otherwise quiet, but Yanan still senses that something is amiss. He can almost feel the tension in the air, which is too hot even for a summer night. The whispers grow louder as footsteps rush past his room, and he forces himself to remain still and calm as he catches some of their argument.</p>
<p>“...leave now, before the rebels arrive in force,” says one of the voices. Yanan recognizes them as servants.</p>
<p>“They don’t have magic, the defences will hold,” the other insists.</p>
<p>“If they don’t?”</p>
<p>The sound of their footfalls recede. Yanan faintly smells smoke in the air. The palace is, without a doubt, under siege.</p>
<p>Allowing himself one more calming breath, he gets up from his bed, getting dressed in the dark. There is no time to light a candle and anyway, the palace would soon be up in flames. Yanan hastily ties his hair back as he crosses his room to reach the dresser on the other side. He nearly breathes a sigh of relief when he opens the bottom-most drawer and feels two cloth bags woven from cotton, with protection spells intricately stitched into the fabric.</p>
<p>Yanan opens them and does a quick inventory check, glad to feel nothing missing. He had packed these bags shortly after the hunting trip from a year ago, as soon as he had recovered. They contained little beyond the necessities: water skins, money, matches, spare clothing, and bedrolls, in order to travel light. Of course, the palace had never acted like the rebels were any threat, but the ambush attack proved otherwise, and Yanan does not like leaving his options to chance.</p>
<p>He closes the bags securely and slings them both over one shoulder, grabbing his sword with his right hand as he slips out of his room and into the one adjacent. </p>
<p>The prince’s sleeping chamber is far grander than his own, the air refreshing courtesy of cooling talismans that are placed on each of the walls. Yanan reaches Junhui’s bed in a few strides, so familiar with the room that he is able to navigate it blind.</p>
<p>Just enough torchlight filters through the shutters that Yanan is able to see Junhui’s sleeping face. Despite the cold, his forehead is covered by a sheen of sweat, his brows furrowed.</p>
<p>Wasting no time, Yanan shakes his shoulder softly but firmly. “My prince,” he urges, “my prince, wake up.”</p>
<p>With a gasp, Junhui sits straight up in bed, his bloodshot eyes filled with fear. It takes him a few moments of heavy breathing until he seems to be able to focus again, settling his attention on Yanan.</p>
<p>Yanan clears his throat and lets go of Junhui’s shoulder. “My prince, can you understand me? The palace is under attack. We must leave.”</p>
<p>Junhui draws in a shaky breath and swallows hard, before managing a nod. “I’m here, Yanan,” he says, his voice hoarse.</p>
<p>Gingerly, Yanan helps Junhui to his feet and dresses him quickly in the plainest robes he can find. As he does, shouts of alarm begin to sound outside their building. With a look, Yanan beckons Junhui to follow, and the prince complies soundlessly. Yanan waits for a wave of people to surge past the door before leaving the room.</p>
<p>The corridor is in chaos. Guards and servants alike rush about, but in the flurry of crowds, Yanan cannot tell if they are running towards the flames to help, or away. The fire appears to have started in the south wing of the palace, but he can see the smoke even from the opposite side.</p>
<p>With creeping dread, one of Yanan’s deepest fears is confirmed. The rebels, somehow, have access to magic. No ordinary flame should be able to harm the palace when its walls are all enchanted to resist mundane elements.</p>
<p>In the frenzy, nobody stops them as Yanan takes Junhui by the wrist and leads them towards the stables in the west wing. Their joined arms shimmer faintly as the character for hiding, <em>yin</em>, glows above his hand then dissipates. The shimmer spreads to envelope the rest of their bodies. The glamour does not make them entirely invisible, but it does render them harder to see for those not specifically looking for them.</p>
<p>As they pass the servants’ quarters, Yanan lingers for a moment, contemplating bringing Zhenyu with them. Besides Junhui, the prince’s personal maid is probably the closest thing he has to a friend in the palace.</p>
<p>He shakes his head, dismissing the thought. If the maids escape together, she would be much safer with them. After all, a young woman travelling with two single men that could not pass as relatives would surely raise questions.</p>
<p>The two of them reach the stables, which are predictably full of people desperate for a ride out of this living hell. Smoke thickens in the air, almost suffocating, and Yanan pulls up the hood of both their cloaks in an attempt to avoid breathing it in as much as possible. They slip past the crowd to where the royal steeds are kept, and Yanan skillfully saddles up their horses, attaching their bags securely to the sides.</p>
<p>With some careful maneuvering, for even in danger Junhui insists on not hurting the others, they manage to leave the stables. Ahead of them, the west gate is thrown wide open from the rush of people trying to escape, the usual posted guards nowhere to be found.</p>
<p>From behind him, Yanan hears a loud roar, followed by a chorus of terrified screams. Against his better judgement, he turns around to survey the mess.</p>
<p>The palace is engulfed in white fire, flickering so brightly the night sky would resemble daytime if not for the smoke and ashes that fill the air. Hovering above the carnage is a long, serpentine form, the enormous beast baring its teeth at the fleeing people. Massive scales ripple in shades of teal and azure and lilac over muscle in a showcase of deadly beauty. Yinhe’s master sits tiny on its back, insignificant in comparison.</p>
<p>Yinhe rears backwards and lets out another roar, and for a heart-stopping moment, Yanan thinks that its beady eyes catch sight of them. Instead, the great dragon summons a blast of water from its maw, dousing a burning section of the palace. The flames splutter out as the building collapses under the pressure.</p>
<p>Yanan turns around again, urging his horse forward. He sees Junhui hesitate, but the prince follows a moment later. Together, they ride into the night, leaving the cries of horror and desperation behind.</p>
<p>- - -</p>
<p>Yanan does not know how long they have been riding for, but by the time they reach the forest, the sun is rising over the distant sea.</p>
<p>They had left the smouldering remains of the palace behind, only a trail of smoke in the horizon indicating that the fire last night was real, and not a morbid nightmare. He feels a sharp knife of guilt and worry twist deep in his stomach for the people of Tianyu, who must remain in the capital despite the fact that most palace residents have no doubt fled. Still, his priority remains firmly Junhui, who may now be the only hope for the kingdom no matter if the rebels have successfully captured the palace or not.</p>
<p>Tucked between the trees with their leaves as cover, Yanan tugs gently on the reins, slowing his horse into a walk.</p>
<p>A gust of wind sweeps past him as another horse rushes by, showing no intentions of stopping. Cursing under his breath, Yanan urges his horse into a gallop again, giving chase. They ride for another few yards before he manages to catch up, leaning dangerously to his right to pull on the reins of Junhui’s horse before doing the same to his own.</p>
<p>Junhui looks exhausted. His moment of lucidity at the palace had been brief, and now his eyes are glazed over once more, his face gaunt. Dark shadows form under his dull eyes, and his jaw is set in a clench. Unconsciously, he has begun to worry at his bottom lip with his teeth.</p>
<p>Yanan sighs. A silence hangs between the two of them, and though it is not uncommon for Junhui to remain still when his mind is not quite present, Yanan tends to speak to him anyway, for he knows the Crown Prince is capable of understanding him deep down. But after what happened at the palace, he isn’t quite sure what to say. The silence stretches on, weighing down on him, even as chirping birds and buzzing insects form a serene atmosphere.</p>
<p>“My prince,” Yanan begins, stops. He tries again. “My prince, I believe our best course of action is to ride as far away from Tianyu as possible. Due north, away from the forces of the rebellion.”</p>
<p>Junhui’s eyes remain fixed on a point faraway, his head held up and proper despite his clear fatigue. He gives no indication of having heard what Yanan said, but this is not out of the ordinary.</p>
<p>Yanan continues, “We can hide our identities and find some small village, make ourselves useful. Lay low for a few years, and then…”</p>
<p>And then what? The palace is nothing but ashes. The king is missing, if not dead, for if it were any other circumstance, he would be too arrogant to let the rebels lay siege without a fight. Morningstar, impossibly, have command of Yinhe, which confirms his theory that their leader is a mystic. The corrupt court makes fun of Junhui on a good day, so what hope of support do they have should Junhui try to reclaim the crown?</p>
<p>He lets the thought trail into the quiet summer air, and they ride without a word until the sun is a blazing ball of fire at the zenith, its unforgiving rays piercing through even the thick canopy of leaves that is providing slight shade.</p>
<p>A few paces ahead, Yanan spots an old well amidst overgrown grass. He grabs both sets of reins and leads their horses to the stone mound, before dismounting to investigate. Incredibly, there is a wooden bucket attached to a coil of hemp rope. Although both items show wear with age, they are surprisingly sturdy, so he carefully lowers the bucket into the well.</p>
<p>He does not have to wait long until he hears a splash, and the bucket is submerged in water. When Yanan tugs on the ropes again, he sees that the water is clear, and likely good to drink. He hauls the bucket out from the mouth of the well and holds it to Junhui’s horse, letting it drink its fill before repeating the action with his own.</p>
<p>Having taken care of the animals, Yanan turns his attention to Junhui, who is still sitting serenely on horseback, watching him work.</p>
<p>“My prince,” Yanan murmurs, gentle as to not startle him. “Please dismount. You may rest here while I keep watch. We can leave at nightfall.”</p>
<p>A pause. Junhui does not move, but he does turn his eyes towards Yanan, his expression hard to read.</p>
<p>Yanan sighs. “My apologies for overstepping,” he says, reaching forward with his right hand to grab Junhui’s wrist while his other hand settles on the small of Junhui’s back.</p>
<p>All of a sudden, Junhui’s eyes light up and he giggles childishly. This is the only warning Yanan receives before the Crown Prince swings his leg over the horse and jumps, placing both hands on Yanan’s shoulder for support. Yanan shifts his position reflexively to catch him before he could crash into the ground, but this means that both his hands find Junhui’s slim waist, pulling them close.</p>
<p>Ears burning, Yanan lets go as soon as Junhui’s feet are steady on the ground.</p>
<p>Unaware of the turmoil he had just caused, Junhui saunters over to the well. Then, as if his little stunt drained him of his remaining energy, he slides to the ground with only a fraction of his usual grace, before promptly closing his eyes in feigned sleep.</p>
<p>His rapid movements have knocked the hood of the cloak free, and Yanan realizes that in their haste to escape, Junhui’s hair is not wrapped up in its usual intricate lattice of braids, long strands blowing free in the too-warm breeze. This will not do at all for a Crown Prince, even if they are technically on the run and hiding their identities. Yanan’s own hair must look a mess, but he cannot care less.</p>
<p>Sighing, Yanan rummages through their pack for a hair ribbon, his hand thankfully brushing over two, and he gently tries to coax Junhui into a sitting position. With slightly trembling fingers, he brushes through Junhui’s impossibly soft hair delicately, trying to avoid too much contact with the other man. Junhui must find his efforts amusing, for he giggles and attempts to use Yanan’s lap as a pillow with his eyes still closed. Patiently, Yanan cards his hands through Junhui’s hair best as he can, given the awkward angle, before gathering his hair back in a high ponytail. It is a far cry from the prince’s usual braids, but it will do for now.</p>
<p>Junhui has fallen asleep during the process, so Yanan shifts carefully, removing Junhui’s cloak, whose fabric is much too thick to be worn in the midst of summer. He folds it into a makeshift pillow so that he can slide free without disturbing the prince.</p>
<p>Now free, he ties his own hair into its usual messy topknot, before taking in their surroundings.</p>
<p>The overgrown grass around the well serves as a perfect feeding spot for the horses, so Yanan ties them loosely to the well’s wooden covering before filling their water skins. After securing them back into their respective bags, Yanan removes his own cloak, spreading it out on the ground next to Junhui like a blanket. </p>
<p>When he settles into the cloak, cross-legged, the events of the previous night slam into him with the force of a cart pulled by a dozen oxen. The rebels had overwhelmed the palace defences through sheer force of will, massive numbers, and <em>an ancient mystic beast</em>. They didn’t encounter anyone else after they escaped the palace, so who really knew the number of survivors? His childhood home, <em>their</em> childhood home, incinerated in a flash. Yanan did not have many friends, especially after he became the Crown Prince’s personal guard, but he still cared about a great deal of the servants at the palace. </p>
<p>He hopes Zhenyu had managed to leave with the rest of the maids. He hopes his father is still alive.</p>
<p>Warmth trickles down his face. Yanan sneaks a glance at Junhui, but he is still sound asleep, so Yanan allows the tears to flow. He sobs soundlessly into his sleeve as to not wake the prince, crying for the lives lost or ruined in the palace siege. He allows himself to feel the pain from loss, lets himself be caught up in an uncertain future for just a moment, before he takes a deep breath to slow his tears. There will be time for proper mourning when they are out of danger. For now, he must devise a plan to get them out of danger.</p>
<p>It will take a fortnight to reach the northernmost border of Qiuhua, where there is nothing but a scattering of agricultural villages. They could hide there until a better path presents itself. The border is far enough from the capital that the rebels won’t be able to reach them easily, especially if they struggle to establish authority in the capital. Even then, that part of the kingdom is rural enough that they may not even bother going out that far.</p>
<p>Yanan takes another deep breath to calm himself. Northward is where they shall go, then.</p>
<p>He meditates until the sun begins to sink in the sky, its orange rays rousing Junhui from his sleep.</p>
<p>Yanan breaks his concentration, allowing himself a small smile at the prince. “Good morning,” he teases, forcing his tone to be light.</p>
<p>Junhui huffs out a small laugh in return, sitting up from his bed of grass. A strand of hair falls in his face, and Yanan itches to brush it away. “It’s almost evening,” Junhui says, and his smile vanishes. “You let me sleep for too long, Yanan. We should be moving already.” His tone is almost accusatory.</p>
<p>“You needed the rest, my prince,” Yanan insists with a serious face, though he is thrilled that Junhui is currently lucid. “I shall go hunt now. We can keep going after we eat. I will not be away for too long.”</p>
<p>Junhui grimaces, clearly not pleased to be left alone, but he puts up no further protest. True to his words, Yanan does not stray too far from the old well as he looks for prey. However, whether because the path was frequented or through sheer bad luck, he is able to find only a few rabbits. Still, he brings them back to Junhui, who spares precious energy to cook the animals. They have to use magical fire; making a normal fire would give away their location.</p>
<p>Night falls. They mount their horses in unison, after Yanan messes around with the grass around the well to cover up their traces. </p>
<p>Their quiet ride is almost identical to the one of the previous night, except this time, the Crown Prince is lucid. However, even in his lucidity, he does not speak, instead following Yanan’s horse as they advance. After a few silent hours, Junhui finally opens his mouth, his voice an innocent whisper in the winds. “Where are we going, now?”</p>
<p>Yanan answers, “To the north, towards the border. There are not many people there, only a few agricultural villages. Chenxing will likely not bother with them.” He does not have the heart to continue, thinking, <em>Since the king had not bothered with them either when he was in power</em>. Rather, he says aloud, “We can probably find a village to hide, to avoid the storm. Wait for a while until the rebellion quiets down, and then…” He fails to find the words once more. </p>
<p>Junhui nods his head, acknowledging both his plan and what he cannot say. If he is not protesting, then it means that he trusts him. Even though Yanan has been the Crown Prince’s personal guard for nearly twelve years, receiving his approval like this still makes an inexplicable happiness well up in his chest.</p>
<p>After their exchange, the two of them lapse back into silence.</p>
<p>They ride for two weeks. During the day, Yanan finds them cover to rest, sleeping in shifts with Junhui. If the Crown Prince isn’t lucid, he would first draw a protective array around him and the horses before he goes out to hunt, never straying far for their makeshift campsites. The horses graze on the sparse grasses that grow sadly on the side of the path. They drink from wells, and if there aren’t any, Junhui would use his magic to coax water from plants, leaving them brown and shrivelled afterwards. As mystics, the two of them could survive longer than <em>pingmin</em> without food or water, but their horses are only regular horses.</p>
<p>The two of them always stay within the cover of the trees, even as their leaves turn from broadleaves to tiny pins. Yanan uses the stars as navigation, which means they occasionally depart from the manmade path to remain on course for the north, struggling through the underbrush until they encounter another road. A few times, they pass by other people: a woman and her children on their way to a well; a band of travelling merchants; a group of lumberjacks. Yanan can almost be led to believe that nothing is amiss if not for the constant tension that hangs in the air between himself and Junhui. </p>
<p>Once, they skirt by a large city, but even from afar, Yanan can see that there are more guards posted outside the high walls, the people inside more distrusting and fearful. The guards still bear the royal insignia. It appears that while news of the coup has spread, at least, to urban areas, mystics still refuse to accept the rebels’ authority, attempting to hold on to the last shreds of their power. He figures that the added security is not worth the risk, and they make camp among tree roots once more.</p>
<p>Eventually, even the cities fade to agricultural villages, the farmlands scattering pathetically across the countryside as far as eye can see. The trees finally trickle to bushes, and then nothing at all. Yanan can see a few houses up ahead on the tiny dirt path, so he signals to Junhui to slow.</p>
<p>To call them houses is an overstatement. They are huts made of mud, straw, and wood, scarcely big enough for four people to sit inside without cramping, and in various forms of disrepair. Since it is the middle of the day, Yanan does not expect to see many people working the fields, but he is still surprised when the village seems almost deserted. The lone figure of a boy in the midst of rows upon rows of droopy crops is the only indication that this place is inhabited.</p>
<p>When they are twenty paces from the fields, Yanan dismounts, gesturing to Junhui to do the same, and they continue on foot until they reach the boy.</p>
<p>The boy looks no older than fifteen or sixteen years old, though his slight frame makes him appear much younger. He pauses when the two of them approach, straightening up to wipe his forehead and leaving a streak of mud on his face. The boy’s face is more curious than cautious, and Yanan guesses that this village does not see many visitors.</p>
<p>“Hello, young masters. May I inquire as to who you may be, and for what business that you have journeyed so far to this village?”</p>
<p>Ever since they left the palace, Yanan has been working up a believable story in his head. The two of them are merchants, who happened to pass by Tianyu on the day the palace was besieged. Since they have conducted business with the nobles before, the rebels’ attack made them fear for their lives, so they took advantage of the chaos to escape.</p>
<p> He is about to answer as such when Junhui speaks before he has the chance. “We are only two travellers, nothing more. Does this village need assistance, or perhaps, is anyone ill?”</p>
<p>The boy’s expression had carried a trace of hesitant suspicion, but in a moment, at Junhui’s question, his eyes begin to shine brightly with hope. “Young master, you must be a mystic? How did you know that there are sick people in this village?”</p>
<p>Junhui only smiles in response, waving a hand at his question. “Take us there to see first. But before that, child, what might your name be?”</p>
<p>The boy seems indignant at being called a child, but seen as to how Junhui really seems like a mystic, he doesn’t dare correct him. After a pause, he mumbles, “...Zhong Chenle. Then, may I inquire as to how to address these young masters?”</p>
<p>Yanan is about to speak again, to warn the Crown Prince against giving away their identities, but he is interrupted by Junhui once more. The Crown Prince grins, says, “There is no need to call us young masters. Call us <em>gege</em>. I am Jun-<em>gege</em>, he is An-<em>gege</em>.”</p>
<p>Chenle nods. “Alright. Then, may the two <em>gege</em> follow me.” When he finishes speaking, he leads the two of them to the biggest house in the village.</p>
<p>Even though it is the biggest house in the village, it is not realistically that big, the four crooked clay walls capable of squeezing in merely five or six sitting men. Yet, the house instead contains the figures of a few people lying across the floor. They are so still and stiff that if not for the slight rise and fall of their chests, Yanan would believe that they are dead.</p>
<p>“Kun-<em>ge</em>! I met two people in the fields just now, they seem to be mystics, and they said they could help us.”</p>
<p>Hearing this, the young man sitting by the corner of the room, the only person not in a lying position, lifts his head. As he studies the newcomers, his eyes contain much more caution and suspicion than Chenle’s had a moment ago.</p>
<p>“Who are you?” he asks, not unkindly, but in a tone that suggests he is not to be crossed.</p>
<p>Yanan inclines his head respectfully and repeats the half-truth that Junhui just told. He winces slightly when he mentions that they are, indeed, mystics, but the villagers seem harmless so far.</p>
<p>Having made introductions, Yanan ventures to say, “Are you the chief of this village?”</p>
<p>Kun sighs, massaging his temples. “For now. My father is the chief, but, well…” he trails off, gesturing at the bodies laying prone by his feet. “A sickness swept through our village recently, and almost all the adults were affected. It doesn’t appear to be highly contagious, but I am not sure how fatal the illness is. The village is now run by a few of the older children. It is truly a miracle that the two of you appeared when you did.”</p>
<p>Junhui moves forward, crouching by the nearest body and pressing two fingers to the unconscious man’s wrist. He closes his eyes in concentration for a moment before opening them once more, declaring the name of the illness. “It can become fatal in the long term if left untreated, but they should be alright for now. Do you happen to have…” he lists off a number of medicinal herbs.</p>
<p>Chenle nods quickly and runs off. A few minutes later, he returns with a basket of plants that Junhui requested. Yanan stands to the side as Junhui asks for water, a pot, and a stove, silently watching him work. As he scatters the herbs into the boiling water, Yanan catches a few golden sparkles falling in alongside the plants.</p>
<p>As soon as the soup is ready, Junhui carefully ladles it into small bowls. Taking one in his hand, he brings it over to the same man he had first checked, before feeding him the soup spoonful by spoonful. Immediately, the man’s complexion improves, though he remains unconscious. Seeing the results, Kun quickly copies Junhui’s actions, motioning for Chenle to do the same.</p>
<p>After the soup has gone, Kun brushes himself off and stands up. “I cannot thank you enough, but there are others who are also afflicted around the village. They do not all fit in this house. Could you help them as well?”</p>
<p>Junhui nods. “Yes. The remedy is the same. I can heal them. Only….”</p>
<p>“Only?” Kun prompts.
</p>
<p>“If my companion and I could have a place to stay for the night.”</p>
<p>Kun agrees immediately. “Of course, that goes without saying. For your grace, you may remain with us for as long as you need.”</p>
<p>Chenle leads them to a small hut on the edge of the village, somehow even more broken than the rest, and explains that the old couple who once lived there had recently passed away, so the house has been unoccupied ever since. There is little more than a table, two chairs, and a bedframe, but Yanan thanks him regardless. Compared to the open forest floor, having a roof over their heads seems like a luxury.</p>
<p>He ties their horses to a post outside the hut, removing their bags from their sides. He lays out a bedroll on the frame, taking care to have filled it with soft straw beforehand, and then unrolls the second one by the old fireplace. Then, he asks the boy from earlier for a washtub before he begins fetching water from the village well. With a flick of his fingers, he lights the fireplace so the water can begin heating up. When Yanan deems the temperature to be adequate, he pours the water into the washtub before sticking a talisman to its side to keep it warm.</p>
<p>With that completed, he takes the remaining water and a set of spare clothes outside to wash up quickly.</p>
<p>By the time he has cleaned up the hut enough to be habitable, Junhui has returned from treating the ill villagers. Given the late hour, Yanan can see how all of his smiles take on a tired tinge, and he does not argue when Yanan urges him to take a bath.</p>
<p>Finally, they both settle for the night.</p>
<p>“Yanan, sleep on the bed, the floor is uncomfortable,” Junhui protests when Yanan goes to lie down.</p>
<p><em>The bed cannot be that much more comfortable,</em> Yanan thinks, but he says instead, “There is only one bed, my prince.”</p>
<p>“So? We can share,” Junhui challenges, unrelenting.</p>
<p>Yanan shakes his head, smiling. “That would be improper. Go to sleep, my prince.”</p>
<p>Junhui looks like he still wants to argue, but he thinks better of it and settles down into the bed.</p>
<p>Comfortable silence falls between them. A few minutes later, Yanan hears the soft breathing from the other side of the room even out. He stares at the ceiling, wondering just how long they can hide in this village before the rebels come for them. Although he is tired from days of travelling, it is a long time before darkness claims him in bouts of fitful sleep.</p>
<p>★ ☯ ☆</p>
<p>Yanan grunts and dodges the incoming blow of a sword, dancing out of the way at the last second. His feet slide across the dirty ground in his effort to reposition, kicking up a cloud of dust as he goes. He spins around, holding his own sword out as he attempts to slash at his opponent’s shoulder.</p>
<p>The other man raises his sword to block his hit, shoving him back. Though it is clear that he is not yet comfortable with the sword, the man’s slender build is deceptively strong, and Yanan shudders as he absorbs the impact. A bead of sweat trickles down his brow, causing him to blink hard. This new shift in position means the sun, nearly at its zenith, shines directly in his eyes, distracting him for just enough of a second for his opponent to strike again.</p>
<p>He catches the incoming weapon with the flat of his blade, the dull sound of wood against wood resonating in the empty field. Squinting hard to see the figure against the sunlight, Yanan surges forward, their blades catching on one another until the man is able to spin free, narrowly avoiding getting disarmed. </p>
<p>Repositioning so that the sun is no longer in his eyes, Yanan launches forward and makes to slash at his right shoulder again with more accuracy. As expected, his opponent moves his sword hand to defend himself, only for Yanan to feint and use the opening to knock the other man to the ground with the hilt of his blade, disarming him in the same movement with a flick of his wrist. Having properly defeated his opponent, Yanan levels the tip of his blade at the other man’s throat. </p>
<p>The two men lock eyes for a moment, and then Yanan withdraws his sword with a smile. “Not bad,” he praises. “You almost got me this time.”</p>
<p>Junhui laughs and shakes his head ruefully from where he is sitting on the ground. As Yanan extends a hand to help him up, he says, “Not good either, then. But better, I suppose.”</p>
<p>“My prince, you are performing exceptionally well for someone who has only learned the way of the sword for three years. I have been training my entire life. And besides, you shouldn’t ever be in a position where I can’t protect you.”</p>
<p>“I’ll beat you one day!” Junhui vows, his grin reaching his eyes. “Let’s go eat, it’s lunch time.”</p>
<p>Yanan stays rooted in place for a moment. The two of them are dressed in the clothing of commoners, simple dark cotton shirts and pants and sandals, and both were streaked with dust from training in the fields. Still, Junhui manages to move with a certain aura of grace and elegance, regardless of how he is dressed, and this fact never fails to astonish Yanan.</p>
<p>He shakes his head at himself before following Junhui into the village.</p>
<p>They are intercepted by two young men on their way back to the hut, both looking uncharacteristically serious.</p>
<p>Sicheng and Renjun are not brothers by blood, but they may as well have been, having grown up with one another after Renjun’s parents were killed in a field accident and Sicheng’s family took him in. Sicheng is quiet, preferring to observe rather than to participate in conversations, but his slight frame is misleading in that he is stronger than he appears. Renjun, on the other hand, hides his thoughts with a sharp and witty tongue, always ready with a sarcastic reply, but his heart is soft all the same.</p>
<p>Although they are close, they are rarely seen together unless there is a village gathering, so to see them next to one another now is concerning, even more so because of their matching troubled expressions.</p>
<p>“Kun-<em>ge</em> asked us to come find you,” Renjun tells them before Yanan can ask. “There’s—we have a visitor.”</p>
<p>The way he says the word “visitor” makes it seem like a demon king had come to knock on their doors, with equal parts disgust and fear. While news of Morningstar’s siege on the palace and the king’s resulting death has long since reached even this corner of Qiuhua, life had continued as normal, and if anyone in the village suspected that Yanan and Junhui were related to the incident, no one said anything to their faces.</p>
<p>Sicheng nods in affirmation. “He’s dressed like a merchant, and claims to be looking for someone, but he speaks like the two—” he catches himself, corrects himself, “like nobility. Kun-ge hasn’t told him anything yet, but he wanted us to check with you first.”</p>
<p>Yanan knows how he was going to finish that sentence. <em>He speaks like the two of you</em>. He exchanges a wordless glance with Junhui, whose smiling face has faded into concern and wariness. </p>
<p>“Did he give his name?” Yanan asks the two.</p>
<p>“His last name is Luo,” Sicheng replies.</p>
<p>Yanan startles. A man by the name Luo, who speaks in the same manner and dialect as him and Junhui, who is looking for someone...only one such person exists, provided that he is still alive.</p>
<p>“Where is he? Take us to him,” Junhui says.</p>
<p>Renjun nods, motioning them to follow. “Kun-ge’s house.”</p>
<p>When they arrive, Kun is sitting by the kitchen table with a stranger across from him, the other man gesturing desperately.</p>
<p>“Please, this may be a matter of life and death. I have searched all over this kingdom. If you have any information—”</p>
<p>“Looking for us, Advisor Luo?” Yanan interrupts flatly, pushing Junhui behind him and angling his body to partially hide the Crown Prince from view.</p>
<p>The man whirls around with wide eyes at his voice. His ragged appearance is a far cry from the composed man who once stood faithfully by the throne without fail, his merchant’s clothing tainted with dust.</p>
<p>“Esteemed guard, Your Highness,” the late king’s advisor breathes out incredulously, like he cannot believe his eyes. “I’m...thankful, to see that you are unharmed.”</p>
<p>“Your Highness...?!” Sicheng and Renjun exclaim in hushed unison next to them, though Kun looks unfazed.</p>
<p>“It is unfortunate that I cannot say the same for you,” Yanan replies coldly, ignoring the two shocked men by his side.</p>
<p>“Please, may I speak to you in private?” the advisor continues, ignoring his biting tone. </p>
<p>“Whatever you have to say, you can say it to both of us.”</p>
<p>Advisor Luo’s eyes flick to Junhui, who is studying the scene before him with unusual precision. Unusual to the advisor, at least, as Junhui has become increasingly lucid in the years after they left the palace, whether it is due to liberation from the king’s watchful eyes or something else altogether.</p>
<p>The advisor’s eyes dart nervously around the room, fixing on the three other people present. “Then,” he amends, “would it be possible for this lowly one to speak to the two of you elsewhere?”</p>
<p>Yanan arches an eyebrow. The advisor he had known may have been reserved, but he had always seemed in control of any situation. Alert. Calculating. More scholarly than aggressive, but cunning all the same. Certainly not this groveling man before them, covered in dirt that would have once been afraid to even touch a thread of his clothes. </p>
<p>Junhui reaches out a hand, touches his wrist lightly. Yanan relaxes, just a little. “My sincerest apologies for this inconvenience.” He’s addressing Kun, spitting out the last word at the former advisor.</p>
<p>“Do what you must, it is no trouble,” Kun dismisses with a wave of his hand. Sicheng and Renjun look like they have many questions, but a sharp glare from Kun prevents them from speaking their minds. “You two,” he tells them, “get back to work. Stop slacking!”</p>
<p>Without another word, Yanan turns to leave Kun’s house with Junhui by his side, walking back towards the hut he shares with Junhui. He hears the advisor stumble to his feet to follow, once again in an uncharacteristic show of clumsiness.</p>
<p>When they enter the privacy of the hut, Yanan shuts the door firmly and gestures to the advisor to sit in one of the two chairs within the building. He crosses his arms.</p>
<p>“Explain.”</p>
<p>So the advisor does. He explains that King Wen <em>had</em> attempted to fight off the siege, but they were caught off guard and taken unaware by the surprise assault. Advisor Luo had remained by the king’s side until the last minute, when a group of rebels led by their leader, Sunchao, had stormed into the throne room and driven a sword into the king’s chest. In the ensuing chaos, worsened by the fire and smoke, the advisor had no choice but to flee.</p>
<p>At first, he had assumed that the Crown Prince was dead. That is the official story the rebels told in order to make their ascension uncontested. Morningstar then spent the next year or so establishing and maintaining their authority across the provinces and major cities in Qiuhua.</p>
<p>Life for <em>pingmin</em> did not improve, as the rebels claimed it would. Instead, the people of the kingdom simply traded one form of tyranny for another. This time, it was mystics that were targeted, and a great many were slaughtered under false accusations of treason. Sunchao had cast some sort of spell on his followers, Advisor Luo tells them, which led them to believe that he was <em>pingmin</em> as well.</p>
<p>Still, with the power of Yinhe, Sunchao’s regime is yet unchallenged, and with the genocide of mystics and the subsequent rise of many resentful spirits, the people of Qiuhua lost hope once more.</p>
<p>“We know that,” Yanan snaps. Even though their village is situated far from the capital, not many days out from the northern border, news still manages to reach them given enough time and importance. “What’s your point?”</p>
<p>“Yanan,” Junhui warns quietly, in a tone that suggests the man is telling the truth, so he should not give him a hard time. Yanan relents. He has long since learned to trust Junhui’s instincts when it comes to people.</p>
<p>“Apologies, Your Highness,” he mutters, still glaring at the advisor.</p>
<p>“Right,” Advisor Luo continues quickly. “But recently, there has been a rumour, spreading rapidly, that the Crown Prince of Qiuhua is still alive.” A pause. Yanan feels his blood run cold as the advisor speaks his next words. “Morningstar has attempted to quell the gossip, but they’ve put together a search party. The two of you are wanted dead.”</p>
<p>Yanan shrugs, forcing his composure into an image of calm indifference. “If we are to challenge the throne, we will be wanted dead regardless.”</p>
<p>Advisor Luo puts up his hands in a placating gesture. “I am simply passing on information. I wish to see His Royal Highness on the throne as well.”</p>
<p>Yanan narrows his eyes in suspicion. “Why?”</p>
<p>The advisor lets out a humourless laugh. “Do you think I want to see the rebels in power? Listen, I’m here to help. If you want to defeat him, His Highness must have a clear head.”</p>
<p>“I’m fine.” Junhui speaks for the first time since the advisor’s story, his tone quiet and firm.</p>
<p>Advisor Luo draws in a sharp breath, turning to look at Junhui properly. The entire time, he addressed primarily Yanan, used to the prince’s mind being elsewhere, but Yanan knows that Junhui had been listening just as attentively.</p>
<p>“By the stars,” Advisor Luo murmurs in hushed awe, “Your Highness, you are so incredibly strong.”</p>
<p>Yanan’s eyes flash in annoyance. “Of course he is, you just choose to underestimate him.”</p>
<p>The advisor shakes his head. “His mind has been sealed for the past sixteen years. He should not be lucid right now.”</p>
<p>If Yanan’s blood had gone cold a moment ago, now it feels like ghosts are breathing down his neck. Leaning against the wall, Junhui has gone perfectly still, his expression terrifyingly unreadable.</p>
<p>In a voice that does not at all sound like it belongs to the Crown Prince, Junhui says, “Speak.”</p>
<p>“How much do you know about Yingyue?”</p>
<p>Yanan stiffens. <em>Moonwatcher</em>. “The enchantress.”</p>
<p>“Yes, and a powerful one. She has an...agreement, with the direct royal line. Every generation, the king can ask her for a favour. She will perform the ritual, the spell, anything required of her, as long as she is provided with all the necessary components.</p>
<p>“And King We—Wen Guowei, his wish was always to be in power forever, and what a more effective way to do so than to ensure he has no challengers? Of course, he cannot have his only son be killed; that would reflect upon his ability negatively. No, instead he asked for a mind seal, one that suppresses the young prince’s magic permanently.</p>
<p>“Such a spell would repress the spirit of the prince as well, but this was only a minor hindrance. However, a permanent spell, one that can only be unravelled by the caster herself, requires a source of energy. A sacrifice.” He let that word hang in the air.</p>
<p>Junhui surges forward in rage before he can continue, grabbing the man by his collar, but he lets go just as quickly, as if all his strength has left him suddenly. Yanan catches him before he can fall to the ground, resting him on the other chair.</p>
<p>“My mother…” he whispers desolately, a haunted look in his eyes. Yanan keeps a comforting arm around his shoulder, forcing himself to nod at the advisor to continue.</p>
<p>Advisor Luo swallows nervously, and he at least has the decency to look ashamed. “Had Lady Su not—ah, it does not matter. The spell killed her, and the seal was formed. It is an extremely powerful seal, having consumed the life of a mystic...really, His Highness should not be able to speak clearly at this moment. To think clearly. To use magic.”</p>
<p>Junhui is still slumped over in the chair, so Yanan speaks in his stead after a long stretch of silence. “Why tell us? Why now?”</p>
<p>“I feared for my life, when the king was still alive.” He shrugs helplessly. “I am a coward, I will admit to that. And deep down, even as he became consumed by his ambition, I still believed there was a part of him that cared. That was good.” The advisor pauses, takes a shuddering breath, seeming like he aged ten years at once. “He was once my best friend, you know. When he died, and I fled...I thought the Crown Prince was dead. And then the rumours started, and I knew I could no longer watch from the sides, but...you hid him well, esteemed guard.”</p>
<p>“Thank you for telling us,” Yanan says as sincerely as he can. “You must be tired from your travels. I will ask the village chief for a place to stay the night.”</p>
<p>Advisor Luo nods wearily and rises to his feet. Yanan gives Junhui’s shoulder a quick squeeze, murmuring a soft reassurance in his ear, before he leads the other man to Kun’s house once more.</p>
<p>Kun dismisses his apologies of inconvenience once more, asking Minghao, another one of the young men in the village, to lead the advisor to a suitable lodge. Once the two of them has left, Yanan turns to the son of the village chief.</p>
<p>“For how long have you known?” he asks. </p>
<p>Kun smiles, his eyes dancing with mirth. “Two young men travelling without an entourage, with a way of speech far too proper for common merchants, fleeing Tianyu after the rebels laid siege. Mystics. You had to have been nobles. And yet, instead of fleeing to a countryside estate, you choose the most out of the way village possible, asking for shelter and work.” </p>
<p>As he speaks, his hands toy with a small jade trinket hanging by his side. He follows Yanan’s questioning gaze. “This is just a good luck charm that we carry around, nothing magical. I have other tricks to find out these things.” He laughs at Yanan’s incredulous expression and wags his fingers. “Do not underestimate us <em>pingmin</em>.”</p>
<p>Yanan shakes his head, impressed. “Never,” he says, and bids Kun goodnight.</p>
<p>Junhui has moved to the bed when he returns, looking outside the paneless window at the darkening twilight. Yanan moves to sit next to him, tentatively settling his hand over Junhui’s.</p>
<p>“My prince…?” he prompts gently. For a moment, Junhui does not answer, and Yanan worries that his consciousness has slipped away, but after a long while, a wry smile appears on the prince’s face. </p>
<p>Junhui turns his head to face him. “You did not call me that, today,” he says, amused. “You only ever call me ‘my prince’ when we’re alone. Otherwise it’s always Your Highness, Your Royal Highness, Jun-ge if we’re with the villagers.”</p>
<p>Yanan feels the tip of his ears burn. He withdraws his hand, reaching up to scratch at the back of his neck, refusing to meet Junhui’s eyes. Sensing the other man will not speak until he does, Yanan coughs lightly. “Force of habit,” he offers by way of a very poor explanation.</p>
<p>It is Junhui’s turn to reach out, to circle his wrist with delicate fingers that have turned calloused with field work. With his other hand, he traces Yanan’s jaw gently, tilting his head up so Yanan would look at him. “It’s a good habit, then,” he says, and this time his smile grows soft, his sparkling eyes carrying an unidentifiable emotion.</p>
<p>Junhui leans in closer until their foreheads touch, closing his eyes. Yanan’s breath hitches, and he stays perfectly still until Junhui pulls away once more. </p>
<p>“Silly, silly boy,” he murmurs, mostly to himself, as he caresses Yanan’s cheek softly. Then, he leans away completely, lying down on the threadbare sleeping mat. He looks at Yanan expectantly, an eyebrow raised. “Sleep here tonight. With me.”</p>
<p>Yanan swallows hard, taking a steadying breath to calm his heartbeat, only for his head to become even dizzier. His voice cracks when he answers, betraying his emotions. “I-if that is what my prince desires, then—”</p>
<p>“Oh, it is absolutely what <em>your prince</em> desires. One might even say it is a direct order. You won’t disobey, will you, Yanan?” Junhui says, his voice almost a purr. Yanan is not sure if the sudden darkening of his eyes is his imagination.</p>
<p>“Of course not,” he replies, settling down carefully next to Junhui. Junhui immediately pulls him close, curling into his warmth. </p>
<p>“Goodnight, Yanan,” Junhui says into the hollow of his throat, words slurring together in fatigue. Yanan strokes over Junhui’s hair gently. Only when he is certain that Junhui is asleep does he dare press the lightest of kisses atop Junhui’s head.</p>
<p>“Sweet dreams, my prince.”</p>
<p>- - -</p>
<p>The advisor leaves after two days, and they set out on their journey the following week.</p>
<p>Minghao and Sicheng, perhaps unsurprisingly, insist on coming along under the premise that they know how to navigate the land better than them. Having spent most of his life between the palace walls except for the occasional hunting trip, and their two-week escape, it is true that Yanan could do with some help, so he relents. Kun sends them off with what little supply he can manage to spare before wishing them luck, with the warning that no harm should befall his two most trusted men.</p>
<p>Yanan agrees with a soft smile, and the four of them leave the village that has acted as his and Junhui’s little sanctuary for the past three years.</p>
<p>They decide to leave their horses behind. There were only two, and besides, Moonwatcher’s stronghold is rumoured to be in the Western Mountains, and that is no place to bring a horse.</p>
<p>That part in their plans unsettles him greatly. No map exists of the way to Moonwatcher, the enchantress preferring to be left undisturbed. Only the fortunate or the truly desperate, with the exception of the king, could find her. Yanan knows they are very much the latter, and he can only hope for a bit of luck as well.</p>
<p>He is not travelling blindly, of course, but his source is a poet of several thousand years, who once described the view from her residence to be “a painting from the heavens, with the entire world at my feet...a bright, clear river snaking to the right of me, the peak of Wangchen Shan to my left.”</p>
<p>There is only one river that flows down the Western Mountains, and Wangchen Shan is the tallest mountain in the range, perhaps in the entirety of Qiuhua, which narrows down his options. The rest, he is hoping that his status as a mystic will allow him to sense any magical wards that must surround Yingyue’s stronghold. His luck has kept Junhui mostly safe, so far, and he can only pray that it lasts.</p>
<p>It does, surprisingly, and their little party manages to reach the Western Mountains without much trouble. Yanan owes it largely to Minghao and Sicheng, of course, who are more than proficient in differentiating the edible plants from the poisonous, in skillfully making snares with deft hands for their hunted meals, and in navigating across the difficult terrain by spotting some hidden path forward.</p>
<p>Yanan is slightly ashamed that he underestimated their capabilities. Even as he sympathizes with <em>pingmin</em>, he had been doubtful when the two villagers had offered to come with them. His worries had clearly been for naught.</p>
<p>So he turns his worries towards Junhui, who has been uncharacteristically quiet the entire journey, spending most of his time in contemplative silence instead. Yanan does not press, knowing that he needs space to think, instead conveying his concern in small touches when he thinks the other two are not looking, in carefully stolen glances, and in extra meat that he always hands wordlessly to Junhui at mealtime. If Minghao and Sicheng have caught on to their additional closeness, different from what their usual display of affection back at the village, they do not comment.</p>
<p>It takes them a little more than a week to start climbing Wangchen Shan. If Yanan’s guess is correct, then Moonwatcher’s stronghold is situated on Wangchen Shan’s secondary peak, and it should become visible once they scale the mountain.</p>
<p>The way up is treacherous, not just because of narrow paths carved out of cliff faces and rotting bridges that threaten to collapse every time they shift their weight. No, the real obstacles are low-level corpses, animated to ward off unwanted visitors; snake demons, that rose to the tip of their tails like a standing person before striking; and malicious spirits, so full of resentment that it takes both Yanan and Junhui drawing an array together to suppress them.</p>
<p>When they reach the peak of Wangchen Shan, Yanan’s heart seizes up so fast, it is a wonder the organ does not leap out of his mouth.</p>
<p>The secondary peak is empty.</p>
<p>Not truly empty, in the full sense of the word, but devoid of any indication of magic. Only what looks like an old cave system runs along the mountainside, reminiscent of hollow eye sockets and jeering mouths that will swallow them whole.</p>
<p>Yanan cannot believe that they travelled so far just to fail.</p>
<p>Junhui tugs at his sleeve. “Look.”</p>
<p>He lifts his eyes obediently, following the direction of Junhui’s index finger. Junhui is pointing at one of the smaller caves, whose entrance seems to sparkle independent of the afternoon sun. Yanan concentrates on the unnatural—or perhaps, <em>too </em>natural—glimmer, focuses so hard his head begins to hurt, and slowly, his mystic eyes peel away at the illusion.</p>
<p>Glamour magic begins to fade, revealing deep colours and massive walls, spiralling towers and kaleidoscopic glass. When the transformation ends, what was once a barren mountain face has become a large castle, its architecture borrowing from a neighbouring kingdom to the west, painted a navy dark enough to rival the night sky.</p>
<p>A single-plank bridge manifests itself across the chasm between the two peaks, though unlike the other bridges they had come across, this one is in impeccable condition. Its length indicates that it is not made from an ordinary tree, ending at an imposing palace gate carved in the likeness of twin phoenixes.</p>
<p>Behind him, Minghao and Sicheng let out hushed gasps of awe. Junhui shows no reaction, only a slight tremble in his fingers giving away his nervousness. Still, the Crown Prince steels himself with a determination befitting of a future king, and he steps on to the bridge. </p>
<p>It appears to be surprisingly sturdy, despite the narrowness of the plank, so that all four of them can easily cross at once. Yanan did not expect the two men to follow, was planning to tell them to set up camp where they stood, but they insist stubbornly, so he does not resist. </p>
<p>The gates swing open on their own, leading them into a stone-paved path that winds around a garden full of exotic blooms and severe marble statues, both of which hum with an energy that unsettles Yanan. When they reach the castle, he is about to raise his hand to knock when the ornate double doors open unprompted, allowing them to step inside.</p>
<p>Then, they slide shut with a neat <em>click</em> behind them.</p>
<p>Immediately, Yanan is thrown off balance. The entire inside of the castle is one massive optical illusion, blatantly disregarding every law that exists in nature. Corridors grow and shrink in length, looking warped like two mirrors facing one another, except their reflections do not appear in between. High-pitched laughter swirls around him, coming from disfigured faces that are not attached to any bodies, appearing and vanishing at various distances in mockery.</p>
<p>Junhui’s composure cracks as he gasps, doubling over like someone—or some<em>thing</em>—just punched him. Yanan grips his sword tighter and whips around, but he does not see anything besides the four of them. </p>
<p>Instead, he hears Junhui mutter, “No, no, not again. I was better, I was <em>getting better</em>!” He runs towards a staircase that appears before them, only to be met with a two-dimensional mural when he reaches the wall.</p>
<p>Yanan understands immediately, and his heart aches in sympathy. During sleepless nights, Junhui has confessed to him his various nightmares growing up, his hallucinations during the day, his voice muffled by the thin covers. Junhui has described the illusions like an endless mansion without an exit, with corridors and rooms that bleed into one another and make it difficult to think. Yanan imagines that his experience must have been similar to what they are all perceiving now.</p>
<p>He is quick to place a comforting hand on Junhui’s shoulder. “It’s okay, I’m here,” he says, low enough so the other two cannot hear. “You’re not hallucinating. We’re all seeing it. You’re okay.”</p>
<p>Junhui inhales shakily, the breath hitching irregularly. Yanan wants nothing more than to embrace the Crown Prince, to protect him and to shield him from all worries, but they are not alone, and they are here for a reason. Instead, he waits patiently, rubbing soothing circles into Junhui’s back until his deep breaths even out, and he is able to stand once more.</p>
<p>When they step forward this time, the staircase becomes solid, a lush red carpet rolling <em>upwards</em> like the castle itself is a sentient being, leading them to some unknown destination. The four of them advance cautiously, but while the rest of the interior is still shifting, the carpet remains firm, guiding them deeper and deeper into the complex. Once again, Yanan is hit with an overwhelming admiration for Junhui, who had to withstand this madness for years on his own. Yanan has only been inside the castle for what must have been a few minutes, or a few hours, and he is already losing his mind.</p>
<p>Eventually, the carpet stops abruptly in front of a closed chamber. The door is deceptively simple, painted a deep blue like the outside of the castle, with splatters of silver across the wood to mimic stars. In the centre, the characters <em>Yingyue</em> is drawn in skillful calligraphy, also in silver, indicating the owner of this stronghold.</p>
<p>Once again, Yanan raises his hand to knock, and once again, the door opens silently on its own.</p>
<p>The chamber they enter is entirely bare, dark except for candles that are scattered around the room’s perimeter, hugging the walls. Their red light holds still despite the soft air current that Yanan can feel in his fingertips, bathing the room in blood. A crimson curtain made of silk separates their party from the figure in the room, who sits as a dark shape on the floor.</p>
<p>“Greetings, welcome,” the enchantress says in a low, melody voice without turning around. Her cross-legged stance is in one of relaxed meditation. “I have been waiting, and you do not disappoint.”</p>
<p>Now that they are finally here, Junhui’s face is a mask of calm again, of eerie blankness, his eyes glazing over. Yanan’s heart clenches as he recognizes the Crown Prince in trance once more, likely forced into it through sheer proximity with the original caster of the curse.</p>
<p>A white hot flash of anger courses through Yanan, taking him by surprise.</p>
<p>Moonwatcher speaks once more. “None of that,” she says, her chiding tone like she is talking to a child. “Your anger is misguided. I once pledged long ago that each king of Qiuhua may ask me for a single favour in their lifetimes. Free of charge, as long as they provide everything I might need to fulfill their wishes. That is how I repay my gratitude to the first ruler of this kingdom.”</p>
<p>Her voice carries a soft lilt, rippling through the air like a koi fish in a pond. Yanan’s anger dissipates, and he listens in a daze. </p>
<p>Surprisingly, it’s Minghao that speaks next. “Master Yingyue, we are honoured for your audience. You must know why we journeyed here. As the original caster of the curse that now plagues His Royal Highness, you must be able to reverse its effects as well?”</p>
<p>“A seal,” she corrects. “Whether it is viewed as a blessing or a curse, or simply a way of life, that is subjective. I am capable of removing the seal,” <em>of course I am</em> goes unsaid, “and I will even make an exception for His Highness. I will do it without asking for payment, but you must provide me with what I need.”</p>
<p>“Anything.” Sicheng, this time. The conviction in his voice, so unlike the usually soft spoken and uncertain young man, startles Yanan.</p>
<p>Yingyue hums, pensive instead of condescending. “The ritual is not so difficult. The strength of the seal depends on the source, and the recipient. His Royal Highness appears to be…extremely gifted. It appears that I have underestimated his potential.”</p>
<p>It must have been his imagination, but Yanan thinks that she sounds impressed, and recalls what Advisor Luo had told them. Junhui should not have been lucid until the seal is removed from his mind, and yet, he has been free from his trances for the better part of three years. Yanan shoves down the feeling of pride welling up in his chest, and instead asks, “The source?”</p>
<p>The enchantress remains still, but her shadow nods. “To repress not only the mind but the meridians of a mystic requires an enormous amount of spiritual energy, such that it can only be drawn from another living person. There is little risk involved for the recipient either way. As for the source…”</p>
<p>They hear the unspoken words hang in the air, rendering the room suffocating, like the candles are sucking out all of the oxygen. <em>As for the source…the source may die.</em></p>
<p>“Of course,” Yanan forces out. He has been more than aware that this might be a possibility ever since the advisor told them about the seal, and he is more than willing to give his life to Junhui, a million times over.</p>
<p>Minghao, sensing his thoughts, protests instantly. “She said living person, not living mystic. The two of you have done so much for our village, please, allow me to repay that favour.”</p>
<p>“His Highness will need your help to reclaim his throne,” Sicheng adds, trying to sound brave in order to cover up the slight tremor in his voice.</p>
<p>Yanan shakes his head. “Your village needs you. You have shown us kindness beyond bounds. This is a step I must take with him. You have my eternal gratitude.”</p>
<p>Taking his words as final, Yingyue exhales meaningfully. “Very well.”</p>
<p>She waves her hand, and two figures melt away from the shadows cast by candlelight. The shadowy spirits gently usher Minghao and Sicheng out of the room, and slowly, finally, Yingyue emerges from behind the curtain.</p>
<p>The enchantress is dressed in traditional robes of lucky red, with various characters and symbols embroidered onto the cloth in gold thread, shimmering with spiritual energy. A bridal veil, also in red, falls in front of her face, and with her hands gloved, she gives no indication of her age. Yingyue’s posture and form suggest youth, but she radiates an aura of commanding presence rivalling ancient entities. The overall effect is quite unsettling.</p>
<p>She sits down again with her legs crossed, gesturing at Yanan and Junhui to do the same. The three of them sit in a triangle facing one another. Junhui’s expression remains the mask of forced serenity, like a lake that is frozen out of season.</p>
<p>Yingyue flicks her wrist, and a <em>pipa</em> appears in her hand. The instrument is made of polished wood, its four strings shining with the cold light of the moon. A multitude of symbols twist and snake around the belly of the lute, no doubt also to the effect of enchantment. </p>
<p>The enchantress rests the ledge of the <em>pipa</em> against her left shoulder, and begins to play.</p>
<p>With each press of her fingers against the frets, each pluck of her other hand at the strings, Yanan feels a bit of his soul leave his body. Spiritual energy is drawn out of him in threads of gold, weaving intricate patterns in the air and on the ground, forming an array that binds the three of them together. The music breaks up his surroundings into colourful fragments until the two people before him blur into the background. Each note sets his nerves alight, consuming his entire being. </p>
<p>Yanan forces himself to be calm, grits his teeth as he attempts to meditate even as his breath is stolen away. His lungs are set on fire, his muscles tense and then relax all at once, black spots cloud his vision, eating away at the kaleidoscopic display before him and he is dying but this is for Junhui, Junhui, <em>Junhui</em>—</p>
<p>The music ends on a flourish, the last note lingering in the air for another moment before fading away. Yanan gasps, and the colours disappear, leaving him sweating in a cold, dark room. Yingyue flicks her wrist again, making the <em>pipa </em>disappear, but all Yanan can focus on Junhui.</p>
<p>Junhui, whose mask of placid indifference has fallen away. Junhui, who somehow seems to be <em>glowing</em> with spiritual energy. Junhui, who is looking right at him with the intensity of a thousand emotions, and Yanan finds himself short of breath for another reason entirely.</p>
<p>The three of them rise, and Yanan stumbles on weak knees, but still he is unable to tear his eyes away from Junhui. The Crown Prince seems to stand taller now, with a commanding aura, his eyes shining brightly, and Yanan knows that he will never see them cloud over again. Junhui’s magic, now unrestrained and curling around his very being, makes Yanan want to grovel at his feet, or maybe kiss him.</p>
<p>He uses every bit of his guard’s restraint to prevent himself from doing either.</p>
<p>Instead, he throws a quick hug around Junhui, and even in this brief moment of contact, he can feel the energy in the room coil around Junhui like it is part of his skin.</p>
<p>Behind the veil, Yingyue watches them thoughtfully. “You did well,” she tells Yanan, the faint compliment evident. “The ritual works more smoothly if the source is willing, and wishes for the spell to succeed.”</p>
<p>She then turns to Junhui for a long moment, silent, but the Crown Prince blushes when she turns away from both of them.</p>
<p>“Thank you for the advice,” he mumbles after a light cough.</p>
<p>They bow in unison, extending their gratitude once more even as Yingyue disappears behind her curtain, and they exit the chamber quietly.</p>
<p>The castle is still this time, no longer playing games with their minds. As they follow the red carpet to the front gates, Yanan gives in to his curiosity.</p>
<p>“What did she tell you?”</p>
<p>The tip of Junhui’s ears turn red, and he pointedly looks away. “Nothing. Just, ah, that I was fortunate to have such a loyal companion as you.”</p>
<p>Yanan grins. “Well, perhaps you should have told her that <em>I</em> am the lucky one,” he teases cheekily. Junhui only huffs and hits his arm.</p>
<p>They rejoin their friends at the other end of the single-plank bridge, watching as Yingyue’s stronghold disappears into a series of old caves once more.</p>
<p>Minghao tackles Yanan in a hug. “You’re alive!”</p>
<p>“Have some faith in me,” Yanan laughs in mock indignation, but he returns the gesture anyways, beyond relieved that the ritual succeeded.</p>
<p>Sicheng watches them with a small smile, but he stays quiet until Yanan asks him for his troubles.</p>
<p>“I guess this is where we part ways,” he says, shrugging, but Yanan can sense his reluctance.</p>
<p>Junhui clasps his hands. “We will meet again, under better circumstances. Thank you, sincerely, for all the help you have graciously given us.”</p>
<p>Sicheng nods, startled. “Of course.”</p>
<p>A beat passes, and then he reaches into his sleeve to pull out a small jade trinket, no bigger than a coin and suspended through red threads. He presses it into Junhui’s hands.</p>
<p>“A lucky charm,” he explains, and Yanan hears an echo of Kun’s words. “Nothing magical, but still. I feel like you should have it. Something to remember us by, perhaps.”</p>
<p>Junhui looks like he is ready to refuse, but at Sicheng’s last words, he nods instead, closing his fingers around the small ornament and tucking it securely inside his robe.</p>
<p>Minghao gives Yanan another hug for good measure. “Good luck. Keep him safe.”</p>
<p>“I will.”</p>
<p>Satisfied, Minghao and Sicheng bid their farewells, beginning the slow trek back down the mountain.</p>
<p>The sky has darkened significantly since they first entered the Moonwatcher stronghold, and now a scattering of stars spreads across the indigo expanse, a crescent moon the only witness to the two mystics on the mountaintop. </p>
<p>Above them, a shooting star streaks across the sky. </p>
<p>Ever since he had seen the first one, all those years ago in the royal gardens, Yanan has been reading about them. They represent good luck, the books told him. Change, reaching ultimate destiny. To see one after removing the seal certainly means great things for the future. But Yanan is not thinking about any of these meanings.</p>
<p>No. When he glances at Junhui, whose elegant face shines just a bit brighter under the moonlight, all he can think of is the shooting star’s symbolism of <em>fleeting miracle</em>, and wonders if it is possible to keep this miracle close to his heart forever.</p>
<p>★ ☯ ☆</p>
<p>The stone walls surrounding the capital of Qiuhua tower over them with all the severe authority of a war general, even more imposing and cold under the overcast morning sky. With so many people surrounding them, Yanan is tense with nervous anticipation, though with the hoods of their cloaks drawn up high over their faces, no one should be able to recognize them. </p>
<p>Next to him, Junhui’s calmness spreads infectiously. Since the removal of the seal, the Crown Prince is almost like a different person, carrying himself with a confidence that wasn’t present before. Under the dark cloak, his dark eyes are glittering with determination.</p>
<p>“Let’s go,” he tells Yanan, and they merge into the stream of people that are entering the capital for the day.</p>
<p>The guards by the gate don’t spare them a second glance. Yanan notices the armband they wear on their right bicep, the rebel’s insignia of the five-pointed star standing out like a sore spot against the dark blue background. He represses a shudder, missing the open book and quill that should be in its place.</p>
<p>Inside Tianyu, nothing has changed, and yet, it appears that everything has changed.</p>
<p>The marketplace is still there, but instead of usual bustling chatter, the people conduct business in solemn tones. Children no longer chase each other between the stalls, instead clinging to their parents’ robes with dirt-streaked faces. Yanan will make no excuses for the previous king, but even under his tyranny, the <em>pingmin</em> in the capital did not move about with such an air of oppression clinging to their bleak faces.</p>
<p>A startled yelp interrupts his thoughts. Yanan looks down, only to see a little girl in rags on the ground, her brown eyes wide in terror. She must have run into Junhui by accident. A man’s shouting voice can be heard from down the street, yelling about theft.</p>
<p>The Crown Prince crouches down unhesitatingly, and the girl flinches, but Junhui only pats her shoulder gently and helps her up. In her dust-streaked hands is a half-eaten bread roll. “Don’t run so fast next time, so you can see where you’re going, okay?”</p>
<p>She nods vigorously, wipes a hand across her face that only makes it dirtier, before attempting to leave. Junhui reaches into his sleeve for a gold piece and presses it into her hands. “Take this. Stealing isn’t good.”</p>
<p>Her eyes grow impossibly wider before she fully bows, her curls escaping her messy pigtails. With another fearful glance behind her, she disappears into the crowd.</p>
<p>Junhui stands, brushing himself off, and sighs. “I wish I could do more to help.”</p>
<p>“You will,” Yanan tells him gently. “Soon.”</p>
<p>With that, they walk in the direction of the palace.</p>
<p>The palace is noticeably more secure than the city gates, with guards marching back and forth on patrol, their swords hanging by their hips. The sheath of Yanan’s own sword presses coldly into his back, hidden from view by the cloak.</p>
<p>Junhui casts a glamour on both of them, but it is Yanan who takes the lead. A lifetime of sneaking around the palace past his bedtime to gossip and drink with the other servants means that Yanan is more than familiar with all the secret passages that lead in and out of the palace. While it is true that the previous palace had been burned, he just knows somehow that the current king has not made any changes to the blueprint.</p>
<p>As he suspects, he is able to lead them into the palace complex without much difficulty, hiding whenever a pair of guards stroll past. A chill makes its way down his spine, but he ignores the feeling of unease that threatens to expose their position. Their patrol schedules are the one variable in Yanan’s path, but as they approach the throne room, the security seems to lessen, as if Sunchao is confident that his outside guards will be able to intercept any intruders.</p>
<p>The door to the throne room is opened just a crack, enough to let Yanan see that an audience with the king has just completed. He and Junhui hide behind a pillar as the disgruntled merchants are ushered out of the room. A beat passes. He reaches over to squeeze Junhui’s hand once, nodding at him. Junhui takes a deep breath and leaves their hiding place.</p>
<p>They enter the throne room.</p>
<p>Yanan had a speech prepared, opening statement included, but the words die on his lips when the current king of Qiuhua, the leader of the rebels Sunchao, laugh at them arrogantly. </p>
<p>The man’s face is just as cruel as Yanan remembered, marred with gnarly scars and lines of age. He looks even more sinister now that his image is not being distorted by fire and smoke. Sunchao is wearing the dark navy robes of the king, leaning on the throne’s armrest carelessly, his mouth twisted in a sneer. A sword hangs in a dark sheath by his side, placed haphazardly like it is more for show than utility.</p>
<p>“Oh?” he says mockingly to a man next to him, whom Yanan presumes to be his advisor. “I did not know we had another audience scheduled so soon after the last.”</p>
<p>The man frowns and checks the piece of paper in his hands. He seems genuinely confused when he lifts his head, saying, “No, Your Majesty, I do not believe—”</p>
<p>Sunchao waves the man off, annoyed. “I know that. So why might two ragged <em>beggars</em> show up to the palace unannounced, hmm?”</p>
<p>Slowly, deliberately, Junhui lowers the hood from his head, looking straight at the king with a daring stare. In a steady voice, he says, “I am Wen Junhui, son of the late king Wen Guowei, Crown Prince of Qiuhua. I challenge you for the throne.”</p>
<p>A shocked murmur breaks the room’s order. As with following protocol, the king’s audiences with the citizens are moderated with government officials, and as Yanan makes a cursory sweep of the room, he recognizes many of them to be the same ones who worked under the previous king. That means they also recognize Junhui’s face, even if it has been a few years.</p>
<p>Sunchao simply laughs. “Am I to believe anyone who comes here claiming as such? Don’t be ridiculous, boy. The Crown Prince is dead, that much is common knowledge.”</p>
<p>Junhui does not waver. “Then why let me through the wards? Why ward the palace in the first place—I apologize, why have the palace warded in the first place, since you claim to be <em>pingmin</em>?”</p>
<p>Yanan’s moment of realization comes too late, and he curses himself for his oversight. Of course the king would be so paranoid as to place protective arrays around the palace, even if maintaining them is extremely draining. Their sneaking around is all for nothing, for the kind had anticipated their arrival the entire time.</p>
<p>Junhui continues. “Under the previous laws, an attempted coup against the royal family is treason. You would be a traitor to the kingdom. Under the current laws, anyone is allowed to challenge the king to the throne, since your own words claim that it makes for an equal process. If you back down, you would be a coward.” He bites out the last word harshly, letting just a bit of anger bleed into his voice without breaking his composure. </p>
<p>“So what will it be? Will you accept my challenge?”</p>
<p>The room holds a collective breath. Sunchao grips the armrests so hard, his knuckles turn white. A single vein pops up on his forehead, making his face even uglier.</p>
<p>“Fine,” he grits out finally. “Fine! Let it be made into an example that no <em>peasant</em> should be allowed to waltz into the palace and challenge the king!”</p>
<p>Junhui inclines his head. Giving the cockroach more respect than he deserves, in Yanan’s humble opinion.</p>
<p>They file out of the throne room, and Yanan finds them in a wide open courtyard, recognizing it to be a training ground for soldiers.</p>
<p>Archery targets line one side, with straw dummies scattered across the other end of the field, accompanied by a rack of various training weapons. In the middle of the dusty ground is a light circle traced in chalk, four metres in diameter. </p>
<p>Yanan knows the circle well, for it is often used for a simple training game among soldiers. It is prime practice ground for duelists, since two soldiers would stand in the middle of the circle and face off, with the goal being to force the opponent out of the circle, or to knock them to the ground. Usually, training calls for dulled weapons or even bare hands, but with the way the king is polishing his blade with the intent to kill, Yanan has no doubts that this is meant to be a fight to the death.</p>
<p>Ignoring the murmurs of the officials around them, Yanan removes his cloak and unsheathes his sword before walking around the perimeter, sketching characters at each of the cardinal points. When he reaches North, Yanan slices open his pointer finger, letting a drop of blood land on the sand. Instantly, the chalk circle flares up in blue, illuminating the faces of the shocked onlookers. It is a simple enough array, one that only allows people to enter, trapping them inside until the caster breaks the array.</p>
<p>Or, in this case, until only one person is left alive in the circle.</p>
<p>The king is sneering at the display of magic, unsheathing his own sword and entering the array first. He has a cocky swagger to his step, but Yanan thinks he can detect a slight tremble in the way he holds his sword, tracing the patterns on the hilt with his thumb like he is nervous. </p>
<p>Yanan walks back to the other side of the circle and hands his sword to Junhui, their fingers brushing at the brief exchange. Whatever words of encouragement he had wanted to say shrivel up in his throat, and he can only swallow thickly before offering a firm nod and standing to the side with the rest of the audience. He feels the crowd part around him, wary of an unknown mystic in their midst, but all Yanan can see is Junhui’s measured, confident steps as he crosses over the chalk line, walking towards what might be death awaiting.</p>
<p>Twin blades catch the morning sunlight as the men size each other up, one glinting wickedly, the other clear and shining. Sunchao lunges forward first, arrogant, and Junhui easily sidesteps, stabbing forward in such a way that forces his opponent to scramble to block the attack. Yanan watches on nervously—Junhui had, after all, never been in such a high-stake duel before—but it is clear to his trained eyes that the rebel leader had not improved in his melee fighting a single bit over the years, perhaps believing that his magic would be sufficient. </p>
<p>The king lunges again, going straight for Junhui’s throat, but his action leaves him open, and Junhui swiftly turns to the side to shrink the available target, dancing behind the man to knock his blade aside. He translates his momentum to a forward slash, trying to disarm Sunchao without actually harming him. Unexpectedly, Sunchao twists out of his hold, his composure slipping to reveal a savage look in his eyes, like a cornered beast. </p>
<p>He keeps moving forward, forcing Junhui to play defence, the clear ringing of metal on metal in the courtyard being the only sound amidst bated breaths. Unconsciously, Yanan’s hands have curled into fists at his side, his heartbeat speeding up despite his calm exterior as the fight continues to drag on.</p>
<p>The sun rises steadily in the sky, ignoring the display of violence beneath its eyes like the fate of a kingdom is not hanging by a fragile thread. Junhui has finally managed to throw Sunchao off, turning his blade to go on the offence, rushing at the other man with his sword held between them.</p>
<p>There is a sudden flash of green as Sunchao gives up his illusion, and Yanan can feel a massive shift in the energy of the courtyard as some sort of spell releases the crowd around him. In a few moments, the formally silent air is filled with confused chattering, and Yanan realizes that Sunchao had put his attendants, his officials, and who knows how many more under some sort of glamour, such that even the rare few who would want to oppose him would be powerless to do so.</p>
<p>A spell of this scale, in addition to the wards around the palace, must have taken an incredible amount of power and concentration to maintain. Now that he has dropped the charade, the look in his eyes becomes even wilder, more sinister, like a mask has fallen. With a cry, he raises his sword, now glowing a sickly green, and counterattacks with a downswing.</p>
<p>“Junhui!” Yanan yells instinctively before he can stop himself, even though he knows it will only be a distraction.</p>
<p>To his credit, Junhui does not react to his voice, but the sword in his hand remains an ordinary silver as it raises it to block the blow. Light explodes from where the blades meet, temporarily blinding the onlookers. When Yanan finishes blinking the spots away, he realizes that he has subconsciously run to the edge of the circle, only to find Junhui looking at Sunchao’s greying face with quiet determination.</p>
<p>Yanan is momentarily shocked beyond words. Not only is Junhui strong enough to intercept a magic-imbued weapon without using his own spiritual energy, but he trusts Yanan’s blade to not collapse under such an attack, where a lesser spiritual weapon certainly would have shattered. Once again, Yanan is hit with a deep wave of respect and admiration for Junhui, who is such a gentleman that, though his opponent is violating the terms of the duel, does not stoop to the same level.</p>
<p>His impressive block also draws exclamations of wonder from the crowd, who seems to have shaken off the daze from the illusion spell and watching the duel attentively. It is now clear to anyone observing that Junhui has the upper hand, spiritual energy or not. They continue trading blows, kicking up a light cloud of dust around them, but Sunchao is slowly getting worn down.</p>
<p> In desperation, Sunchao lunges forward with a growl, making to slash at Junhui’s right shoulder. Yanan tenses, seeing the feint before it happens, his nails making tiny crescents in his palm as he leans forward unconsciously, like he can protect Junhui just by being physically closer to him.</p>
<p>Junhui raises his sword, but instead of blocking the false attack, he intercepts the other man’s blade before it can reach his chest. A sharp <em>clang</em> rings out in the courtyard as he disarms the rebel king with a flick of his wrist, and in the same movement, he kicks the man down, levelling the tip of his blade at the cowering man’s throat.</p>
<p>Yanan exhales shakily. He hadn’t even realized he had been holding his breath.</p>
<p>“I will not kill you,” he hears Junhui say firmly, his quiet voice somehow carrying across the entire courtyard. “Because we are different. I am not cruel. But I have won the duel. Cede.”</p>
<p>The king shakes his head with wide eyes, fear finally crawling up his features, as Junhui moves forward to yank something off Sunchao’s neck. Yanan frowns, seeing his slender fingers close around a pearl the colour of the night sky. Sunchao is full on begging now, but his pleas fall upon deaf ears as Junhui smashes the pearl on the ground in one swift movement.</p>
<p>A silver wisp escapes the broken pieces, growing larger and larger until a dragon of unimaginable force and insurmountable presence forms, causing Yanan’s array to flicker out, unable to contain its power. Its body circles the entire courtyard with ease.</p>
<p>“You are free now,” Junhui tells Yinhe. </p>
<p>The dragon seems to grin, showing off sharp white teeth. His voice is deep and rumbling when he speaks, like an earthquake from the depths of the seas. “I am indebted to you, Your Royal Highness, Crown Prince of Qiuhua.”</p>
<p>Junhui smiles faintly. “King of Qiuhua,” he corrects.</p>
<p>Yinhe lowers his head in acknowledgement before his beady eyes fix upon Sunchao, who is nothing more than a groveling form on the ground. In a swift bite, the dragon swallows him without hesitation. The man’s horrified screams echo around the field as even Yanan looks away from the bloody display, though he can hear a distinct <em>crunch</em> as Yinhe picks his way through his snack.</p>
<p>He only looks again when the crunching sounds cease, and Yinhe pulls his long form into the sky, solid scales fading into the shimmering mist of his spirit form, before dissipating altogether.</p>
<p>Yanan approaches Junhui, who simply returns his sword without another word. Around them, the crowd has gone silent. Yanan sees the <em>pingmin</em> blinking at each other like they are waking up, still trying to come to terms with the events that passed. The mystic officials, however, behold them with something like awe and respect, and Yanan feels vindicated as Junhui finally receives the recognition he deserves.</p>
<p>One by one, the officials sink into deep bows. The grand chancellor says, lowly, “All hail His Royal Majesty Wen Junhui, King of Qiuhua.” </p>
<p>The chant ripples across the crowd, and as their eyes meet, Yanan feels pure and unfiltered joy for the first time in years.</p>
<p>- - -</p>
<p>The coronation ceremony is grand, as befitting of the Crown Prince who defeated Qiuhua’s tyrannical rebel king, but all Yanan can feel is a hum of nervous energy that is threatening to burst out of his skin.</p>
<p>He stands at the foot of the throne, trying to calm his racing heartbeat. The cushion with the crown sits heavy in his hands. Normally, it is the task of the master of ceremony to crown the new king, but Junhui had insisted it be Yanan. The master of ceremony stands on the other side of the stairs leading to the throne, surveying the room.</p>
<p>Yanan follows suit, scanning the crowd for danger, but all he sees are the hopeful faces of the people, and the expressions of the officials, drawn tight in begrudging respect and approval. Among them, he catches sight of some familiar people: Kun, Sicheng, Minghao, Renjun, Chenle. Junhui had invited them to the palace for the occasion.</p>
<p>The doors to the throne room are closed, Junhui on the other side. Yanan’s hands tighten their hold on the cushion, trying to sooth his mounting anxiety. Ever since he became Junhui’s official personal guard, and especially in the past three years, Junhui has never left his line of sight. Even now, with his powers back, Yanan cannot help but worry.</p>
<p>He is about to leave his station, certain that something has gone wrong, when a horn sounds from the outside, followed by a loud voice announcing the prince’s arrival. The doors swing open majestically, and Junhui enters with his trailing entourage.</p>
<p>Yanan freezes, almost dropping the crown at the sight. His breath catches.</p>
<p>He’d been with Junhui all morning as preparations were made for the coronation, but the waiting ladies had asked him to leave the room so they could put the finishing touches. As such, this is the first time he would be seeing Junhui since then.</p>
<p>Junhui walks into the room with measured steps, standing tall with his shoulders back, a serene expression on his face as he holds his head high. He is wearing multiple layers of elaborate robes in various shades of Qiuhua purple and blue, silver thread running up and down the fabric to weave intricate patterns of falling flowers. His hair is tied back partially in braids, secured by indigo ribbons, with the rest cascading over his shoulders in dark waterfalls. </p>
<p>It seems as though Yanan isn’t the only person affected, however, as the room falls into a collective hush, the previous chattering fading away at Junhui’s entrance.</p>
<p>Junhui reaches the stairs at the foot of the throne and stops, his entourage scattering to either side as he turns to address the room.</p>
<p>“I, Wen Junhui, accept the responsibility to be king of Qiuhua. I acknowledge the weight of this position. I thank you, the people, for your trust and loyalty. I vow to protect this land, this people, with all my power. I vow to rule justly, with impartial judgement. I ask the gods for their blessing. Should I shun my duties and betray my people, may the heavens enact discipline accordingly.”</p>
<p>Junhui’s voice is calm, firm, and does not shake a single time during his oath. He turns back towards Yanan. His eyes, dark and clear, raise to meet Yanan’s, and Yanan has to use every bit of his trained willpower to prevent himself from drowning on the spot. Holding his gaze, Junhui sinks to his knees, finally breaking eye contact to lower his head.</p>
<p>Yanan swallows hard, suddenly feeling suffocated.</p>
<p>He hands the cushion to the master of ceremony, hoping the man would not notice his shaking fingers, before taking the crown in his hands. The elegant hairpiece, with branches of silver encircling teardrop jewels, is cold to the touch. Carefully, Yanan settles it into the nest of braids in Junhui’s hair. After making sure it is secure, Yanan lets go of the crown and takes a step back.</p>
<p>Junhui rises to his feet and ascends the stairs, his entourage scattering to either side of the aisle. Yanan, however, follows him up the dais, standing behind the throne as Junhui takes his rightful seat.</p>
<p>There is a pause, and then, the master of ceremony announces in a projecting voice, “All hail His Majesty!”</p>
<p>The room repeats the cry back, all sorts of voices overlapping to form a singular proclamation: “All his His Majesty!”</p>
<p>One by one, the crowd drop to their knees in a deep bow. </p>
<p>Junhui observes the room for a moment, before reciting his own line. “Rise, and be well.”</p>
<p>The room breaks into chatter once more as the ceremony ends, people intermingling in excitement or resignation.</p>
<p>Junhui tilts his head to the side, his eyes sparkling. “How was that?”</p>
<p>Yanan lets himself relax into an easy smile. “Excellent,” he responds, playing along. “You did well.” A pause, and then, quietly so that only the two of them can hear, he adds sincerely, “Congratulations, my king.”</p>
<p>★ ☯ ☆</p>
<p>Yanan exhales softly into the summer night, leaning against the railing of the bridge in the palace gardens, crossing over the steady stream. Even from a distance, he can still hear the birthday festivities, loud music and laughter emanating from the banquet hall. On the dark canvas sky, the watchful moon hangs in a crescent. Perhaps it is his imagination, but her light is not cold, tonight.</p>
<p>His eyes skim over the gardens. When the palace was rebuilt after the rebels’ siege, much of the places deemed “unimportant” were left alone, and the gardens were never recovered until Junhui rose to power two years ago. But the gardens are not the only positive thing to arise from Junhui’s reign. Instead, the king had worked tirelessly to rewrite nearly the entire set of laws, improving the education system, the lives of <em>pingmin</em>, and even relations with trade partners.</p>
<p>Yanan’s eyes fall to the ring that he’s been twisting subconsciously on his left hand. It is a small silver thing, simple as to not interfere with his training, with the Wen family crest engraved onto its surface, with a crescent moon on either side. He remembers the day Junhui had given it to him, had asked him to be his prince consort. Had promised that he loved no one else, and would love no one else from this life into the next.</p>
<p>He remembers their wedding, how their friends from the northern village had accepted their invitation. Minghao had teased them; Kun had told them that the village was doing significantly better, calling it the Junhui effect. “Since you became king,” he had joked, “It’s like the whole kingdom is rejuvenated.”</p>
<p>Junhui had offered, then, for them to remain at the palace, or to work in the capital, but the older boys had refused. Their village needed them. Renjun and Chenle stayed, though.</p>
<p>Yanan remembers how grateful he had been, for their help, all those years ago when the rebels had temporarily seized power. Their journey to Moonwatcher’s stronghold, to finally break the seal that was holding Junhui hostage for nearly his entire life. He is so thankful that Junhui got his powers back. That he got Junhui back.</p>
<p>Lost in thought, Yanan startles when a pair of strong arms snake themselves around his waist, feeling a weight press upon his shoulder.</p>
<p>A voice, light and teasing, reaches his ear: “What might be troubling this lovely young master, that has his mind so far away?”</p>
<p>Yanan relaxes into the embrace, smiling. “My king, I believe it is improper to leave any birthday celebration early, much less your own.”</p>
<p>“And I believe my personal guard wasn’t supposed to leave his charge unattended.” Though his head is still turned away, Yanan senses that Junhui is grinning.</p>
<p>It’s true; after the coronation, Yanan has barely left Junhui’s side, always wary of when the next assassination attempt might occur. As time progressed, and the kingdom stabilized, Yanan started to take on more responsibilities within the palace, which required him to be away from the king more often than not. With Junhui’s powers recovered, he is more than capable of taking care of himself, so Yanan has been more reassured in his absence. </p>
<p>That is why, when the banquet became too unbearable, Yanan had been comfortable enough to excuse himself for some air.</p>
<p>Silence settles upon both of them, enveloping them in tranquility. After a while, Junhui speaks again. “What were you thinking about?”</p>
<p>Yanan turns around to hold Junhui properly. Feeling playful, he worries his bottom lip with his teeth before answering, not missing how Junhui’s eyes flicker to his mouth. “Just about what Yingyue told you about me, back at Wangchen Shan.”</p>
<p>To his surprise, Junhui’s cheek flush a lovely pink, lit by lanterns and flickering fireflies. He lowers his head, mumbling in uncharacteristic shyness, “Actually, I lied. That wasn’t all she told me.”</p>
<p>Yanan raises an eyebrow. “Oh? Then will my king be so gracious as to tell me the rest?”</p>
<p>Junhui huffs, pushing at his chest with no heat. “Don’t call me that. Especially when we’re alone.”</p>
<p>“My love,” Yanan acquiesces easily. </p>
<p>“She—she told me that I was fortunate to have such a loyal companion. And that I should ask for your hand before someone else does.”</p>
<p>Yanan laughs, delighted, pulling Junhui close. “Fear not, my love, for there was never anyone else but you.”</p>
<p>Junhui’s cheeks are still flushed. “Stop making fun of me,” he grumbles into Yanan’s chest. Then, he raises his head suddenly, as he does whenever he has a brilliant idea. A brilliant idea, or a terrible one.</p>
<p>“Yanan, look, a shooting star.”</p>
<p>Yanan looks at the motionless sky just to humour him, and Junhui takes advantage of his momentary distraction to steal a peck from the corner of his lips. He turns back to Junhui, and with one hand at the back of Junhui’s neck, he tilts his head down to kiss him properly.</p>
<p>Above them, a shooting star flies across the night sky.</p>
<p>
  <strong>[FIN]</strong>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Hey! If you've made it this far, thank you so much for reading and for indulging in this lil AU of mine! Comments and kudos are appreciated as always, and have an awesome day/night wherever you are ^_^</p>
<p>~starjay</p></blockquote></div></div>
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